


A Path Beyond the Light

by Khatun_pangaeaj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Canon, Angst, F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, POV Severus Snape, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khatun_pangaeaj/pseuds/Khatun_pangaeaj
Summary: The Wizarding World is in chaos. Hermione is determined to help in any way she can. Even if it means lying to Harry and teaming up in secret with Severus Snape.Caught together in Dumbledore’s web of lies and cryptic clues, Hermione and Snape are forced to become the new puppetmasters of the Horcrux hunt.Can Hermione keep it together long enough to see Harry through to his destiny? Or will her growing attachment to Severus put everything they have worked for at risk?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 111
Kudos: 151





	1. It All Begins at the Burrow

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a birthday present for my sister Lucy. Happy Birthday Lucy!

Hermione screamed as something loud hit the window. She rushed over and whipped back the curtain. It was only a Quaffle. Crookshanks glared up at her from his position atop the mountain of blankets on Ginny’s bed. “Don’t stare at me like that, you ought to be a little more jumpy yourself,” she glared right back at him. 

  
She peered down to see Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George charging around the garden on broomsticks. She repressed the urge to toss something heavy out the window at them.   
  
Of course, Ron was out there playing quidditch. She’d informed him she wanted to pack everything today. But as usual, he was no help. His pea-brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that they might have to leave at a moments notice, or that everything in the Wizarding World was about to crumble around them.

  
Hermione did her best not to yell at the stupid tent that wouldn’t fit into the small beaded bag. She threw it on her bed and took a deep, calming breath. Anger bubbled under her skin. She let it simmer there for a second and focused on the task at hand. It’s okay, she told herself. Harry will be here tomorrow.

  
She turned back to the bag. Concentrated on the tent once more, then shrunk it to the size of her palm and popped it in the bag. She placed her hands on her hips. A bit of logic went a long way. She scanned Ginny’s bedroom for what else needed packing, not quite ready to go downstairs and get roped into tasks by Mrs Weasley. Rather than tackle the big stuff (clothes, cooking equipment, toilet paper), she began to re-stack her books in an order of usefulness.   
  
This mindless task cleared the path for certain thoughts she had been avoiding. These particular thoughts had the potential to snowball to anxiety and panic rather rapidly, something she preferred to avoid.   
  
One of these subjects was Snape. She hadn’t heard from him since the day of Dumbledore’s funeral. Though she was enjoying the break from his constant trials and lectures, but she was also growing concerned. He should’ve been in touch by now, and she had no clue how to reach him or where he was hiding out.   
  
For the past weeks she had been forced to listen to Ron, his family, and countless Order members with their endless stream of horrible comments and harsh opinions about Snape. Yet she couldn’t say a word and only she knew the truth. She knew the sacrifice he had made, and she knew that Dumbledore hadn’t bothered to let anyone know that Snape was on their side. Now he looked like the ultimate Death Eater, and Hermione was left lying to everyone and trying to trying to stop herself drowning in the ever rising anxiety.   
  
Foot steps thundered up the dodgy stairs, and the door suddenly flung open.  
  
“Don’t you know how to knock,” she said once she saw it was Ron.  
  
“Sorry, Hermione. Mum wanted me to tell you lunch’s in half an hour.” He looked at her and frowned. “ What are you doing with all those books?”  
  
“I’m packing, Ronald. Just as I told you this morning.”  
  
“All right. No need to get your knickers in a twist. We’ve still got a week or two. Anyway, I’m off to shower. Can’t miss lunch.” He was already out the door.   
  
How the hell was he going to cope with the Horcrux hunt? He seemed to think they were planning a family camping trip. At least Harry had some idea of what they were in for.   
  
She patted Crookshanks to stop him glowering at her. The whole situation was a mess. Harry was clueless to the fact that he was just a pawn in an old man’s game, and she hated Dumbledore for not telling Harry everything he knew. Dumbledore had died knowing he was taking important information to his grave. Information that was crucial to saving the Wizarding world. But he played his game right to the end, taking Snape down with him.   
  
Her hatred for Dumbledore had only grown in the past six months, and she had to be mindful of her reactions when anyone so much as mentioned him. The way he played with people’s lives was disturbing. Harry had been under his thumb from the day his parents were killed. Hermione wished she had figured Dumbledore out earlier, but like Harry, she was too trusting. He had ensured she was the only one who knew the truth about Snape, and he knew she would do whatever it took to help Harry defeat Voldemort. She was locked into his game too, and alongside Snape of all people.  
  
She practised her occlumency techniques as she made her way through the piles of books and crammed the last one into her bag just as Ginny rushed into the room. Piles of clothes and random kitchen equipment were still scattered around taking up most of their space.  
  
“I’ve got to get changed quickly. I have to get to dinner before Ron so I can take his seat. That’ll teach him.”  
  
“Leave me out of it,” Hermione said, as she handed Ginny the stack of clean washing that was somehow on her bed.   
  
Ginny quickly stripped off and threw on clean clothes. “So you are leaving then?” she said, glancing over Hermione’s piles that hadn’t yet made it into the bag. 

  
Hermione didn’t respond. A knot formed in her stomach.  
  
“Come on. It’s obvious,” Ginny said. “Ron isn’t exactly the world’s best secret keeper.”  
  
“Neither am I,” Hermione said.  
  
“You’re better than you might think.” Ginny sat down on her bed and ruffled Crookshank's head. He had grown used to Ginny’s rough handling in the past weeks.  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“I’m just saying I noticed you in the last months at Hogwarts. I’m sure no one else did, but I saw things.” She looked at Hermione with a spark truth in her eyes.  
  
“Such as?” Hermione asked, as she busied herself folding some winter jumpers.  
  
“Such as, you sneaking back into the common room well after curfew. The dark rings under your eyes. Doing assignments at the last minute and only doing the minimum amount of work. Not turning up to classes. You were up to something.”  
  
“That’s a load of bollocks, Ginny. You know how many classes I was taking. I could barley keeping up.”  
  
Ginny sat up and tapped a finger to her chin. “If I didn’t know you better. I’d say you were having some sort of secret affair. But I do know you Hermione, and it must be something far more important.”  
  
“You’re being ridiculous and have clearly been reading to far many ‘Miss Marble’s Witchery Detective Novels’. But you are correct in deducing that I was not having a secret affair. I wouldn’t have time for such things. I was often late in the library, that’s all.”   
  
Ginny scoffed. “You’ll never pass a real interrogation with that sort of response. That excuse may have been enough to throw off Ron and Harry, but not me. What is it then? Meetings with an underground organisation? Secret lessons? Did you join the Death Eaters? Or a secret project perhaps?”  
  
Hermione did her best to keep her face unmoved. “You’re too nosy, Ginny. Let’s just go down to lunch.”  
  
“Your eyes give you away, Hermione. You always look down when you’re lying. Come on, just tell me.”  
  
“Why are you even asking about this now? So what if I were just meeting McGonagall for extra credit lessons? Why do you care?”  
  
“Because, if it were McGonagall you would have just told people that. And you would have told me when I asked you a million times at school. But for whatever reason, you’re hiding it and I don’t forget things that easily.” Ginny’s eyes narrowed.   
  
“Just give it a rest Ginny, it was just boring school stuff.”  
  
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Ginny stood up abruptly. “But keep in mind that I will assume the worst.” She turned toward the door.  
  
The knot in Hermione’s stomach grew tighter. She couldn’t tell her. She looked at Ginny and the words caught in her throat.  
  
“I’m going to get my seat now,” Ginny said. The door slammed behind her.  
  
Hermione lay back on the bed and let out a long breath. Crookshanks walked across her belly and sat down on a pile of clean clothes.   
  
She thought about following Ginny downstairs to lunch. The idea of all the chaos that was the Weasley kitchen nearly put her off. But her hunger overcame her doubts.  
  
Hermione had learnt from the Weasley meal rush that it was a good idea to arrive five minutes early to secure a proper chair and a good position at the table. Ginny taking Ron’s seat would most certainly cause a riot.  
  
She made her way down and found that Fred had already reserved her a chair. She checked it before sitting down (you never knew what you might sit on with Fred) and thanked him. If she was late it was Fred or George who usually saved her a seat. They could be sweet when they wanted. Ron was as clueless as ever. She had been counting down the days until Harry arrived. Just one to go.  
  
Lunch was the usual affair. Food floating up and down the table, Ron and Ginny fighting over their chair, Bill and Fleur talking non-stop about wedding plans (well mostly Fleur), and Mrs Weasley shoving more food on Hermione’s plate to feed her up.   
  
Hermione thanked Mrs Weasley for the second serve of potatoes. The kind, “Your welcome, dear,” she received back nearly sent her out of the room crying. Memories of her mum flooded in. She locked her jaw to stop her chin from trembling and focused on poking her food with her fork. She swallowed a tiny mouthful of potato, and with it she forced down truth that she would never hear those words from her own mother again.   
  
The memory charm she had performed on her parents two weeks prior was irreversible. Ginny was the only one who knew and Hermione only told her because Ginny was there to witness her complete breakdown the night she had done it. It was hard to hide when they were sharing a room.  
  
 _Stop being so dreary_ , she ordered herself firmly. She wasn’t that crying little girl any more. She used the same occlumency techniques Snape had taught her to push the memories far away.  
  
Fred nudged her with his elbow and she came back from her thoughts.   
  
“Chin up, the potatoes aren’t that bad.”  
  
The clock dinged as the door opened. Mr Weasley trudged into the room as if gravity were getting the better of him. He was wringing his hands mercilessly and paused as if trying to find the right words. Hermione’s heart dropped.   
  
“More bad news, I’m afraid.” He cleared his throat. “They’ve attacked another village. All the Muggles dead.”   
  
Mrs Weasley rushed over. A hushed silence fell across the room. He shook his head slowly. “They’ve taken one of ours as well. Miss Burbage from the school. She’s currently missing, feared dead.” His glazed looked drifted across the room.   
  
Hermione’s hand shot to her mouth as hushed murmurs echoed around the kitchen. Miss Burbage was so lovely. Hermione could only hope Snape was there to do something.  
  
Lunch ended abruptly as everyone drifted off to various corners of the house. No one feeling up to talking or arguing anymore. Hermione remained at the table after everyone left. A small head butt from Crookshanks was comforting, but it turned out he just wanted food. She patted him and fed him some left over ham.  
  
The thought of starting the Horcrux hunt set her stomach churning, but on the other hand, she just wanted to get it underway and over with. Nothing mattered more than winning this war, even if her friends might hate her at the end. It would be worth it if they were all alive.   
  
Her stomach twisted at the thought of what Harry would say if he knew this whole Horcrux hunt was a set up. Finding out that Snape and Hermione were the ones pulling the strings would throw him over the edge. It was better he didn’t know.   
  


* * *

  
Snape Apparated into the alley between the brick houses of Spinners End. He smashed the empty bottle of fire whiskey against the wall and stumbled up the street toward his front door that looked the same as every other. The difference, of course, was that only he could see his house. He had an extensive range of wards to keep it untraceable and impenetrable by anyone who wished to find it.   
  
Even in his drunken state, he flawlessly navigated the wards and found himself in the at the front door of the dingy house he usually tried to avoid. A sanctuary nonetheless. His shoulder slammed into the wall as he lurched into the living room and collapsed into the tatty old chair by the fireplace. He aimed his wand in the general direction of the fire and wordlessly shot a fireball through the grate. Perhaps a bit much for a summer’s night, but a fire would the do room good. It was too damp for all the books, they deserved better.   
  
He called a bottle of firewhiskey down from the shelf and took several gulps straight from the bottle. Tonight was a night he would rather destroy all traces of.  
  
Her screams hurtled through his thoughts, unrelenting and nauseating. Images of her body that had hovered so helplessly, so hopelessly. But worse than that, were the last pleas for help, imploring him, aimed only at him. Her eyes brimming with trust. He shook his head violently as if it could remove the image.  
  
He had done nothing. He had sat there with his face like stone and watched her die.   
  
A bitterness rose in his mouth. He was a coward, Dumbledore was right. He had told himself he was sticking to the plan. Maintaining his precious cover. But he had failed Charity, just as he had failed others before her. It was clear now, there was left in this world that was worth living for. He would be glad when it was all over and he could finally see the Dark Lord defeated. The one thing he had left to do.  
  
He slammed his fist hard onto the solid side table. It did nothing but hurt his knuckles. He vanished the blood and tried to think straight.  
  
It was clear to him that they would have to start this Horcrux hunt sooner than planned. After tonight, things were about to get a lot worse. He would have to warn Granger to get those idiot boys out before it was too late. But this was the last thing he wanted to think about.   
  
He took another swig of whiskey. Not a good idea to tell her now. Not when he was this drunk. He probably shouldn’t have Apparated either, but oh well. He was well practised in drunken Apparition and hadn’t had a splinching yet.   
  
He Accioed his coat over and checked for the small box in the inner pocket. Good. It was still there. He wished he’d given her the ring on their last meeting. It would have much communication much easier. He had put it off too long. A measure he hadn’t wanted to resort to, but it was necessary.  
  
His fingers faltered, and he dropped the box, then lurched forward to pick it up and placed it carefully on the table with both hands.  
  
That could wait till tomorrow. He had been tracking her movements and knew she was at the Weasley’s house. It would be impossible to get in touch with her at night. Not with a house full of Weasleys and Order of the Phoenix wankers. The ‘all righteous,’ blind followers of the great Albus Dumebldore. He scoffed. Those fools knew nothing of the real man they worshipped like a god.  
  
Severus slumped back into the chair. He would drink until sleep took him and so that no nightmares could take hold. Tomorrow he track down Granger.


	2. Into The Woods

It was the 26th of July and Harry Potter was standing in the kitchen. Hermione forced her half-asleep brain to catch up, and through bleary eyes she stared at him to figure out if he was real. If he was, he certainly wasn’t supposed to be there.

His smile spread to his eyes as he walked up and wrapped her in a tight hug. He certainly felt real. 

“How in the world did you get here, Harry? This wasn’t part of the plan.” She squeezed him back.

“Long story. But the short version is, Mad-Eye called me on the phone and suggested a new plan. Basically, I snuck out with the invisibility coat alongside cat-McGonagall. Then got a bus, then a taxi. Then she led me to some house where I met Fleur. Since Fleur is the least connected to the Ministry, she wasn’t likely to be followed,” he drew a breath. “And then we took an unregistered portkey and here I am. Simple,” he said.

“That was so dangerous Harry!” She stepped back to check he was in one piece, still gripping his arms. 

“I know. But it was the simplest plan that didn’t involve putting everyone else in danger. And now I’m here, so no lectures.” He gave a sly smile, clearly proud of his stealthiness. She forced him into another hug.

“What an absurd plan. But I’m so glad you’re here.” They untangled themselves from each other and both stood there beaming. It would be nice to have everyone together again. Hermione turned to see Ron in the doorway glaring at them. She took a step back from Harry and set about making a cup of tea. 

Harry strode over to Ron and pulled him into a hug before he could object.

“All right, Ron?” Harry said.

“Good to have you back, Harry,” Ron said. He slapped Harry on the back and sat down at the table, eyeing up the food left for them. Hermione frowned at Ron. How could he be so clueless to the danger Harry went through to get there? She could ring his neck. Instead she sat down to breakfast. The friendly teapot she had just filled floated over and started pouring, she was quick to get a cup under it.

Mr Weasley had already left for work, and Mrs Weasley and Fleur were in the living room arguing about flower arrangements. Though the twins didn’t actually live there, they somehow appeared at meal times. Hermione watched them zip in and out of the fireplace in a flash, carrying plates of toast, eggs and sausages, like thieves in the night. And of course, Ginny still wasn’t out of bed.

Hermione was finishing up her jam on toast, when a loud buzzing beside her ear made her jump. She hopped up, imaging a helpless bee tangling itself in her wild nest of hair. She batted it, hoping to dislodge the bee, then started shaking her head to the side as if she had water in her ear. 

“You need some help there, Hermione?” Harry asked.

She swatted at the mass of hair once more and hit something which stuck to her hand. She opened her palm to reveal a tiny paper bee buzzing there, sitting patiently. 

She stumbled on her words. “No, thank you. Quite all right. Nothing to worry about. I thought there was a bee in my hair, but it seems I’m mistaken,” she said rapidly. “I’ve got to go check something.” She curled her hand loosely around the paper bee and rushed outside. It was a message. 

She sat on a lichen-covered garden bench and tapped the bee with her wand. It unfurled into a small note with elegant handwriting.

_Urgent meeting requested. One hour’s time behind the large oak tree. SS._

Her heart skipped a beat. About time. But meeting here? In daylight? It must be urgent news to risk meeting right before the wedding while the Burrow was bustling with people. She aimed her wand at the note and watched as fire curled up the edges and burned to nothing.

Be calm, she told herself. All you need to do is get dressed properly and tell the others you're going for a walk, nothing unusual. 

Nothing unusual, other than the fact that she was secretly meeting their ex-potions professor and alleged murderer of Albus Dumbledore. The most hated man in the Wizarding world.

Don’t be silly, she told herself. You agreed to work with him and there’s no going back now. 

Feeling motivated, she ran upstairs and crept into the room. Ginny threw her blankets over her head when Hermione started rummaging around in her trunk for clothes to make her look more grown up. She didn’t want Snape to think of her as a school girl. She was old enough to work alongside him as a professional, and she wanted to show just serious she was about the Horcrux hunt. 

She selected a white blouse that could be both causal, or formal, her tidiest jeans, and her black lace-up boots that were both practical and stylish. Not that she wanted to be stylish for Snape. She just wanted to look confident.

She decided she might as well attempt to brush her hair. She still had thirty minutes left. The brush snagged in her hair painfully, she knew some battles weren’t worth fighting. Maybe she ought to tie it up. She was hunting through her bag in the dim light for a hair tie when Ginny appeared from her blanket mound and banged her hands on the bed loudly.

“Why in Merlin’s name are you making such a racket! You know I need my beauty sleep.” 

“Sorry Gin, I’m looking for something to tie up my hair.”

The curtains suddenly shot back and tied themselves up. “Better?” Ginny asked, clearly trying to get Hermione to leave.

“Got it!” Hermione stood up in triumph and moved to the mirror.

“You look rather nice,” Ginny said bluntly.

“Thanks” Hermione said, forcing her hair into submission. 

“What’s the occasion? Are we meant to be doing something for the wedding today? Did I forget again?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just felt like wearing nice clothes today, a lot of people will be here from the Ministry and it doesn’t hurt to look nice. You know, for future job prospects.”

Her eyes flicked to Ginny, and she wished they hadn’t. Ginny’s suspicious drilled into her. A good time to leave.

“Whatever you say, Mione.”

“I’m off for a quick walk. See you in a bit. Oh, by the way, Harry’s here.”

Ginny sat bolt upright. “What! Why didn’t you say that before!” 

She left without giving Ginny the chance to ask anymore questions or grumble at her. Downstairs, Ron and Harry were still in the kitchen. She yelled across the room as she headed for the door. “I’m going to a walk, see you all in a bit.” 

“Do you want me to come?” Ron yelled.

“No, I won’t be long!” she said, hoping that Ron wouldn’t follow. She slammed the door louder than usual, hoping that would deter him. 

A group of people were setting up a huge marquee outside with more supervisors than necessary. She waved to them and power-walked past, hoping she wouldn’t be roped into something. She made it to end of the garden and started down the lane. 

The country road crunched beneath her boots and the summer breeze rushed around her, bringing with it smells of honeysuckle from the hedgerows. There was a lightness in her step at the freedom of being out of the house and away from the crowds. Then the butterflies in her stomach rolled in, rattling around and threatening to bring up her breakfast at the thought of what news Snape might bring. 

She spotted the old oak in the distance. It stood out from the tree line like a tall guardian. She checked her watch every minute as she got closer. She was still early. Her eyes darted to the trees not far from the oak, half expecting to see a shadow emerge. But Snape was stealthier than that. She reached the tree and nibbled on a fingernail as her heart thumped in her chest.

“A nasty habit chewing one’s fingernails.” The voice appeared right behind her. 

She spun around, but too slowly. The cold tip of a wand pressed into her neck as she slammed into the tree. The breath was knocked from her chest as rough bark crushed painfully into her back.  
.

The hand on her shoulder locked her into a grip she had no hope of escaping. She let out a gasp, and tried to raise her wand. But it was hopeless. It was plucked from her grip and she could do nothing to prevent it.

“I expected better of you, Miss Granger,” the familiar voice droned. The wand left her neck, as did the hands, and she found herself being dragged to her feet. She struggled to stand up straight. 

“What the hell was that?” she demanded as she tried to catch her breath.

“Training.” Snape kept one hand under her elbow as she coughed and tried to regain composure. Blood rushed to her face. She had messed up. Pathetic.   
All those years of Defence Against the Dark Art, the DA, the months training with Snape. It could have all been over in a second. 

“I’m sorry Sir, I wasn’t ready.” She didn’t want to meet his eye.

“That much was clear. And I am not your teacher now, so don’t call me Sir. Follow me.”

His hand released her elbow and he strode toward the tree line. Hermione forced her legs to move and told herself to get a grip. So far she had done nothing but prove she wasn’t up to the task. They travelled a short way into the woods, enough to keep an eye on the road, and remain shadowed in the low forest light, should someone pass by.

“I can’t stay long,” Snape said, his voice strained.

Hermione looked at him for the first time. His eyes were rimmed in darkness, his skin sallow, and his face far thinner than the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad you came. I had no way or warning you. But the plans changed for Harry. He’s already at the Burrow,” Hermione said, as she eyed her wand in Snape’s hand.

“Wonderful,” Snape said sarcastically. “I assured the Dark Lord he would be moved tonight.” He gripped his own wand with white knuckled force. She could see his mind whirling. “I will have to remedy this shortly. Let’s get this over with.”

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice confident. 

“You will not like this.” His eyes met hers, testing her. She held his gaze. “I forbid you to act on this information I’m about to tell you. It is purely to get you and those idiot boys to safety. Do you understand?”

She swallowed, knowing it was something she wouldn’t want to agree to. She nodded.

“Very well. There is an attack planned. I need you to leave much sooner than we anticipated.”

Her stomach dropped, though she had half expected something like that. “When?” her voice cracked.

“At the wedding. You need to get out before then.”

She tried not to let the panic rise. To think logically.

“Well?” he said.

“There is no way they will listen to me. Not without a good enough reason, and I can hardly tell them the truth.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t tell them the truth or they’ll warn everyone and try save them. What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll think of something. Thats why Dumbledore selected you for this task, not those two imbeciles,” Snape said.

She gritted her teeth and nodded. She needed a way to get them out without giving anything away. 

“Here.” He handed her back her wand and a piece of paper. “This is a list of wards to put around your campsite. Ensure you do this every time you arrive at a new location. _Without_ fail.” He held her gaze once more, making sure she understood. “And you need practice. _Everything_ I taught you. Your reactions are too slow.”  
  
“Thank you for that assessment,” she said sarcastically. “I _know_ how important this is. I’m not an idiot,” she said, clutching her wand as if it might escape her. 

“Are you doing okay Sir — _Severus_?” 

“What do you think? Look at the mess Dumbledore left me with — us with.” He corrected. “There isn’t a way out for me now.”

“There will be a way,” she said, believing it to be true.

“Just keep any links to me untraceable. Perhaps one of us can make it out of this alive.”

She stood frozen as the rustle of the leaves filled the silence.

“We can both get out of this,” she said, her voice steady and calm. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He looked at her with pity, as if she were a child who didn’t understand the world. She set her jaw and met his eyes. He was wrong.

He pulled a box out of his pocket. “Hold out your hand.”

She did so without hesitation, and he dropped something cold and metallic into her palm. “A ring?”

“A communication ring.” 

She eyed it suspiciously but picked it up to study. It was ornate, with an oval moonstone set in a silver filigree band. Much larger than any ring she would have chosen. At first glance it seemed ordinary, but as she looked closer, she saw ripples of silver moving through it like tiny strands of lively metal. 

“I’ve not heard of this magic. How does it work?”

“Unfortunately, I have one too. It pairs with this one.” He held the ring pinched between his thumb and finger as if it were diseased. His ring didn’t have all the frilliness that hers did. It was a plain silver band with a circular moonstone. Still, he did not look impressed. 

“You must be wearing for it to work. To use it, press your thumb firmly to the stone and in theory it should transmit the strongest feeling or thought to the other ring. You must have a clear intention before using it. It should transmit whatever is at the forefront of your mind. Be clear.” He said the last words slowly, as if she were a first year in potions class.

“And how is this useful to us? Is this even real magic?” she said a little more sarcastically than intended. It sounded more like a mood ring or too close to divination for her liking.  
  
“Yes. It is real magic, it is a form of old magic.” He narrowed his eyes at her for a split second, but he let it go. “We will use it to arrange our meetings. Put it on, we need to work out what capabilities they have and we have little time.”

She fixated her eyes on the ring, she had a bad feeling about this. She suspected Snape was not patient enough to allow her to safety test them. She would just have to trust him.

Cautiously, she slid the cold silver over the ring finger of her right hand, the only one it would fit on. It tightened to fit her finger snugly. She watched as Snape put his on with his lip curled. The forest was still around them, she couldn’t even hear the birds. 

The ring began to shrink and squeeze her finger. The metal cutting into her flesh. She screamed and tried to pull it off. It didn’t budge. 

“Quieten yourself!” Snape snapped at her. “Stop that. Your making it worse for both of us.” His eyes flashed with pain. He hid it well, but it was there.

“It’s cutting off my finger,” she said through clenched teeth.

He grabbed her hand and forced their fingers together. “Just trust me,” he said, with unwavering eye contact.   
  
She found she did trust him, and before she could follow what he was doing, a white ball of light was circling their hands. Relief washed over her as the light trickled between the gaps in their fingers. It was soothing like icy water as it bled from the rings and into her flesh. The moonstones glowed and slowly began syphoning the white light back into them. A vortex formed around their hands. The light spinning like a ball of string, until each ring absorbed a single strand of glowing thread.

Hermione stood there blinking, wondering if she could feel her fingers. She tried to move them and Snape dropped her hand like a hot coal. She stepped back and shook her hand out.

“What was that?”

“It seems we were both opposing the rings so much they fought back. I simply realigned them. We should have no problems now.” He stared off into the forest, not meeting her eye. 

Hermione winced at her throbbing finger. Surprised it wasn’t cut off by the ring. She wished she hadn’t put it on. She should have run tests on it, and blamed it on the innate, blind trust she put in teachers. She sat down on a nearby log and continued to rub her numb finger. 

“Stop sulking, we don’t have time for this.”

“Well, get on with it then. Tell me what to do,” she snapped back. She sat up straighter and glared at Snape. Determined not to let him have control of every situation. Even if it was petty.

“I’m going to attempt to convey our meeting place through the rings. You will let me know what message you receive so we can determine the level of accuracy we will be dealing with.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. Hermione watched as he closed his eyes, deep in focus.

The ring began to warm like a hot pebble in the sun. She was startled at first, but closed her eyes to still her mind and tried to focus on the message.

The strangest feelings came over her, but they were distant. A mixture of frustration, guilt, sadness and impatience flowed through the ring and drifted through her body. It was muted and dull, but very real. Next came flashes of colour. She pushed to focus her mind, and they slowly merged into images. Her head started pounding as she tried to get the blurred images to become clearer. Slowly they became more real; a street sign, a house, a door number. Then nothing.

She blinked. “I saw a sign that said Spinner’s End.”

“Very good. It seems the connection is strong.” He stiffened his posture, as if made uncomfortable by the fact that it worked. “Perhaps we can convey more than I anticipated.”

“Are these safe?” she asked, thrown by his strange reaction. 

“It appears we passed their test. I assume that means we are safe.”

“It was a test! Why didn’t you warn me?” Her body tensed.

“For this exact reason. I assumed you would panic from the lack of preparation and information.” He started pacing back and forth.

She let a breath out her nostrils. He was right, of course, so she changed the subject. “What is Spinner’s End?”

“It is a safe house and a place we can meet without detection. We need to go there to set up the wards, but we have no time now. I will contact you again soon.” He glanced at the ring once more before checking his watch. “I must be off now.”

“I haven’t even told you what I’ve discovered about Horcruxes or my plans yet,” Hermione said.

“The less I know, the better right now. Just leave as soon as possible and find a safe place to stay. Next time we meet I shall to know more so we can move ahead, but until then, it’s safest we are both in the dark as to each other’s actions.”

“Can you just tell me one thing? Is Miss Burbage okay? We heard she had been taken,” Hermione said, rubbing her thumb along the band of the ring.

Pain flashed across his eyes and she knew the answer without having to be a Legilimens. He shook his head slowly and looked down. It confirmed her fears. Miss Burbage was dead. Tears crept to the corners of her eyes and she let them fall silently.

“I couldn’t help her,” he whispered so quietly Hermione hardly heard. He didn’t look at her, but turned toward the light beyond the forest.

Hermione panicked. “What do I tell people? What about the wedding?”

He sighed and half turned around. “You may tell your two companions, that Dumbledore tasked you with a mission of your own and that they should listen to you if they know what’s good for them.”

“And you expect them to listen to me? To believe me?”

“Why shouldn’t they. You’ve been bossing them around ever since you met. Why should this be any different?”

Hermione’s blood pressure was rising. “How can I explain the information I’m going to be coming up with from thin air? They aren’t as stupid as you make them out to be.”

“Tell them that Dumbledore set you up with an informant and you are the only one allowed to liaise with them. All in the name of helping with Potter’s _quest_ ,” he sneered. “Anything else?” 

“But the wedding—.” Anxiety fizzed like static under her skin. 

“This is a war, Miss Granger. You do not have the luxury of saving everyone. They are capable of defending themselves.” He twisted around, his lips pinched into a thin line. “I don’t need to use Legilimency to see what you are thinking. You will not warn the others, I forbid you.”

She stood up to face him, wand tightly in hand. “I can’t stand by knowing something terrible is about to happen and not warn people!”

“Welcome to by life, Miss Granger. You will come to know that feeling all too well, I suggest you get used to it.”

A shiver trickled down her spine. How could she just leave without warning anyone? And how did Snape live with himself, with all these secrets?

His eyes flashed dark. He advanced on her and took her firmly by the shoulders. 

“You will go back out there and act normal. You will tell Mr Weasley and Mr Potter you are to leave before the wedding. You will calmly collect your belongings, not speak a word to anyone else about what I’ve told you, and you are to leave for your first planned location. Is that clear?”

Thoughts buzzed around in her head, trying to fit themselves together. She nodded, trying to remember her plan. All logical thought vanished. She took a breath and tried to get hold of herself. _You must do what is right for the greater good_ , she told herself. Personal feelings couldn’t come first.

“Very well. Is there anything else?” she said.

“That is all. Just remember how serious this is. It isn’t a camping trip with your boyfriend. You have tasks to complete.” 

Her body locked up in rage. “I know how serious this is, _Severus_. I wiped my parents’ memories for Merlin’s sake. They don’t even know they have a daughter.” She held back the tears, not wanting to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing her cry again. 

“Good.” Was all he said. Saying nothing further, he turned and Disapparated away as if he had never been there. Hermione wished she could have thrown something at the back of his head as he disappeared. 

She slumped again the log. Poor Miss Burbage, and how would she tell the boys they had to leave so soon? She checked her watch and realised how long she had been gone. They would probably be looking for her. She jumped up and tried to brush off the bark from her back, and the leaves and mud from her jeans. A hopeless task, she would just say she fell over. She blew her nose and tried to wipe the evidence of tears from her face. 

She sped out of the trees and back toward the Burrow, thinking about how she might break the news to Harry and Ron as she went. It was going to be a long few days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've got most of this story written. I'm planning on editing and posting as I go. Hopefully a chapter every few days. But we shall see if I can keep up...
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you're liking it so far :)


	3. Not Going As Planned

“Where the hell have you been?” Ron yelled, as he marched up the road toward Hermione.

Hermione straightened herself, hoping there wasn’t too much bark in her hair for Ron to ask questions. The Burrow was within sight and the garden was full of colourfully robed figures, bustling with activity.

She stopped in front of Ron, who was looking rather red in the face.

“Sorry Ron, I got distracted in the forest.”

“Distracted doing what? You could have been taken by Death Eaters for all I knew!”

“As you can see, I’m fine. I was learning to identify fungi if you must know.” She held his eye and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Well, it’s a great bloody time you picked to be doing that. You do know there’s a wedding in a few days?”

“How could I forget, Ronald?” she said. “But we have more important things to worry about. Where’s Harry? I need to talk to you both now.”

“He went off the other way with Ginny to look for you.”

“Lets get a move on then.” Hermione walked past Ron and headed around the back to avoid all the people. They needed to get packed and moving asap. 

Ten minutes later, Hermione was in the swampy field attempting to avoid the muddy water filling her boots, when she spotted the unmistakable flash of Ginny’s hair through the tall stalks. She heard Ron clomping up behind her and was about to yell out to him, when she saw that Ginny wasn’t alone. In fact, she appeared very busy with Harry. 

The two of them oblivious to the world around them. Snogging in the middle of the field, and certainly not on a manhunt for Hermione. 

She twisted around, causing Ron to walk straight into her. He grabbed her shoulders to stop them both toppling over in the mud. 

“Sorry Ron, I thought I heard something in the other direction… to the west, perhaps?” She tried to tilt him away.

“Why are you talking so loud?”

She raised her voice even louder. “I thought they might hear us. Harry! Ginny! Are you out there?” 

A rustle of stalks gave away their position. “Over here Hermione!” Harry called out, followed by a giggle from Ginny.

“Oh silly me. They were right in front of us after all,”Hermione said. She suctioned one boot out of the mud and managed to separate from Ron, then followed the voices just metres away.

“What happened to you two?” Ron asked as they found the pair on a dry patch of land.

“Harry fell over in the mud,” Ginny said. A smile crept to the corner of her lips. Harry looked down at the state of his clothes and shrugged. 

“Funny that. I fell over in the forest. Must be the day for it,” Hermione said as she looked at Ginny. Though their situations were entirely different. 

Ron scowled at all three of his companions. His fists clenched at his side and his face burning red again. He clearly wanted to accuse someone of something, but hadn’t any evidence. 

“I see you found Hermione alive. Good show, I was starting to get hungry. Should we head back then?” Harry said, looking a little flushed.

“Brilliant idea, Harry,” Hermione said. The sooner they got back, the sooner she could tell them about the change in plans. 

“Hold on a minute. Don’t any of you care that Hermione was missing, and she didn’t even explain why she was so long or where she went?”

Hermione resisted the urge to curl her fingers into fists. “I told you, Ronald. I lost track of time identifying fungi in the forest.”

Harry looked between his two best friends. “Sounds like something Hermione would do. What’s your point, Ron?”

“That we shouldn’t be going off alone! Something could’ve happened to her.”

“She’s fine, Ron. Give it a rest. There’s enough wards on this place that a Death Eater couldn’t get anywhere near us.”

Hermione kept quiet, knowing that wasn’t quite true. Ginny gave her a sideways glance, but was smart enough not to wind Ron up further. Ron mumbled something under his breath but clearly had nothing to go on. Ron turned away and stormed back toward the Burrow. Harry raced after him, telling him to calm down.

They left Ginny and Hermione in the damp field. Ginny narrowed her eyes at Hermione as if she wanted to say something, but instead linked arms with her and started dragging her back toward the house.

“I saw you and Harry. I thought you broke up?” Hermione said.

“We did. But with war coming and you lot planning on taking off. I decided I‘d rather have a bit of fun,” Ginny said.

“Fair enough. Just don’t let Ron catch you. He’ll go mental.”

“Noted. Speaking of fun. Who are you so dressed up for?”

Hermione kept her eyes straight forward and frowned, knowing her nice white blouse was now a mess. “You can’t just let things go, can you,” she teased. “It was no one. I was alone.”

“Sure you were,” Ginny said as she nudged her elbow into Hermione’s ribs. “I always find out.”

“There’s nothing to find out, Ginny.”

“My galleons are on Fred or George. Or maybe both?” She let out a snort.

“Ginny!” Hermione said. “No. Just no. Why would you say that?”

“You’re the only one they’re nice to, and they’ve got a lot more going for them than old Ronny. Just saying.”

“Well, you can get those thoughts out of your mind. Can you imagine what that would do to Ron?”

“It would be hilarious.” Ginny chuckled, a little too evilly. 

“No, it would be disastrous,” Hermione said. “I’ve got enough problems dealing with Ron as it is.”

“So you’ve noticed then?”

“Noticed that he is overbearing and a lot more annoying than he used to be? Yes.”

“People show love in their own ways,” Ginny said, placing a hand on her heart with mock seriousness.

“Shut up, Ginny. He’s only just noticed me as a potential romantic partner, and it’s a little late. I had a crush on him in fourth year and I’m quite past that now.”

Ginny snorted again. “Romantic partner. You’re so proper, Hermione.”

“You know what I mean, Ginny, don’t make me push you in the mud.” Hermione veered their path toward a large mud puddle at the edge of the lawn. Ginny broke into giggles and took off pulling Hermione toward the back door of the house and away from the mud. They arrived at the door breathless. Ginny held the doorknob but didn’t open it.

“I always find out Hermione.” She winked and flung the door open. Ginny sat down at the table in the kitchen, not caring about the globs of mud falling off her. A dustpan and brush worked furiously under Ginny’s chair as Hermione headed upstairs to change into clean clothes.

It was hours later before Hermione got Harry and Ron alone. There were a thousand tasks to do before the wedding, and they couldn’t easily explain their way out of them. Mrs Weasley didn’t officially know they were leaving, but she was doing a proper job of keeping the three of them apart, hindering all attempts at planning.

Fortunately they had Mr Weasley on their side. They finally got away after an ‘emergency marquee inspection’ required Mrs Weasley’s scrupulous eye.

Hermione, Ron and Harry sat on the floor in Ron’s cramped bedroom eating a bowl of practice pastries that wouldn’t quite made the cut for the wedding.

Hermione’s mouth was dry, and the nerves in her stomach told her it was a bad idea to eat. She sat there watching the boys stuff their faces as she tried to come up with the right words.

She cleared her throat. “I have something important to tell you both.” Harry looked up, Ron continued to stuff his face. “Ron, can you please listen,” she said, trying to channel Professor McGonagall.

“Wot?” He said with a mouth full of crumbs.

“I don’t know how to tell you this. But Dumbledore also left me a task. He put me in touch with someone who will act as an informant for us, for Harry. Their job is to relay important information that might aid in Harry’s task.” 

“Why would Dumbledore do that?” Ron said.

Harry sat there quietly, but the concern and doubt shone clear in his eyes.

“Because we will need help, Ronald. I don’t know why he asked me. But it is what it is.”

“What sort of informant and what information?” Harry asked. 

“Just a person, Harry. They need to remain anonymous for their safety. And the information they give will anything useful to us—helping to identify potential Horcruxes, Death Eater activity updates, Ministry news, anything to help us with Harry’s task.”

“Sounds like a useful bloke,” Ron said. 

“I didn’t say it was a bloke, Ron. It might as easily be a woman. But I’m not at liberty to say.” She turned to Harry.

“And we’re supposed to trust this mystery person you won’t tell us about?” Harry said.

“Yes, Harry. Yes, you should trust me.”

“Dumbledore should have told me.”

“He should have told you a lot of things Harry, but he left us in the dark, didn’t he? All he did was leave you with a bunch of cryptic clues and no practical training whatsoever!” Hermione said, unable to keep her voice controlled.

“He was murdered, Hermione. He would have told me everything eventually he was waiting until the right time. He would still be here if it wasn’t for Snape!” Harry gripped his wand with white knuckled force.

An onslaught of comments welled in her chest, just waiting to divulge the truth, to defend Snape. But she forced them back down. Even if she could tell them the truth, she knew they wouldn’t listen. 

She took a breath. For the greater good, she reminded herself. “Whatever Dumbledore’s plans were, he didn’t tell you, so we must do our best with what we have.”

Ron nodded, looking between his two friends with his back pressed firmly against the bed as far back as he could go. “Right. So what did this mystery person tell you then?”

She glared at Harry then looked to Ron, who seemed to be on her side for the moment. “We need to leave earlier than we planned. Tomorrow, in fact.”

Harry’s wand let out a hiss of red sparks and he almost dropped it. “No. We have a plan, Hermione. We all agreed we will leave after the wedding.”

Hermione squared her shoulders and took another breath. “No. We need to leave tomorrow. It isn’t safe here.”

“Why isn’t it safe? What does this informant know that we don’t? And why wouldn’t Dumbledore tell me?” Harry said.

“I don’t know, Harry. Look, we’re going around in circles. All I know, is we need to pack up and be ready to leave in the morning.”

“I’m not going. I can’t miss the wedding. Mum would kill me,” Ron said.

“There are more important things than a wedding, Ron. We are at war.” 

“I still have the trace on me, it’s not my birthday for three days,” Harry added. 

“Why can’t you see the urgency here! We are all in danger and we need to start finding Horcruxes as soon as possible!” She fought the urge to bang their heads together. Instead, she rummaged through her beaded bag for a book.

“All right, no need to bite off our heads, Hermione. We’re still going. Just after the wedding.” Ron stuffed yet another pastry into his mouth. “It’s what? Four days, Harry? Surely we can wait that long?” He looked to Harry for back up.

“A few days won’t hurt, and I’m safer with the Order till the trace breaks. It’d be risky doing magic otherwise.”

Not as risky as staying, Hermione thought to herself. Her jaw was starting to hurt from clenching her teeth and a flood of frustrated tears were threatening to burst out.

“I understand your point, but I feel it is more of a risk to stay here. We don’t know when Voldemort will attack, it could be any day and we’re all here together like sitting ducks,” Hermione said. She placed the book she retrieved from her bag on her lap and gripped it for moral support.

“Voldemort hasn’t attacked one of us in weeks. He’s scared of the Order.”

“He’s attacked muggles Ron. He’s rounding up people like animals and killed them! Or do they not count?”

“That’s not what I meant, Hermione. I meant that we’re safer around the Order, that’s all. And that he isn’t targeting our kind right now.”

“What about Miss Burbage?” Hermione chocked back tears. “She didn’t deserve—” she stopped in her tracks and the flood of tears burst through. They didn’t know what happened to her poor muggle studies teacher. Frustrated tears trickled down her cheeks.

She felt Ron shuffle over and put his arm around her. “We don’t know what happened to her. She might be alive yet.” Ron said as he rubbed her shoulder.

He had no idea. Neither of them did. No idea what Snape saw every time he faced Voldemort and lied straight to his face. No idea the risks Snape was taking for them to succeed. And they wanted to stay for a stupid wedding. One that would most likely be a massacre, and Hermione was powerless to say a word. Her stomach roiled with guilt.

Harry patted her knee and offered her a hankie. “How about you tell us about your research and we’ll make sure we leave straight after the wedding, okay?”

All Hermione could do was nod and sniffle. There was nothing she could do to to make them see the danger, short of telling them the truth about the attack, but neither of them had the ability to keep that secret and they’d probably choose to stay.

With all the secrets she was gathering, and lies and plans she had building in the back of her mind, she started to doubt if she belonged in Gryffindor anymore. Everything felt very Slytherin, or perhaps Snape was wearing off on her. Merlin forbid.

She took a breath and opened the book on her lap. “Lets begin.” She masked her voice with fake confidence. “I’ve discovered how Horcruxes are made and have a small amount of information on how to destroy them.”

Harry sat up with his mouth slightly agape. She felt Ron straighten up beside her. He removed his arm and looked over her shoulder at the book.

“Brilliant! How the heck did you get a book about Horcruxes?”

She showed them the front cover, before flipping it back. “Secrets of the Dark Arts—I stole it from Dumbledore’s office after his funeral,” she said without changing her tone.

“Savage,” Ron muttered under his breath. 

Hermione ignored him and went to on explain in great detail how Horcruxes were made. Harry added in his memories of young Tom Riddle asking Slughorn about splitting a soul seven times. Hermione’s skin tingled with discomfort upon hearing this. It was barbaric. 

From here, they worked out there were probably six Horcruxes made, the seventh being Voldemort himself. The diary was dead; killed by basilisk venom, the ring was gone; destroyed by Dumbledore somehow, and they had a clue in the fake locket; R.A.B. Whoever that was? That left three they knew nothing about. 

Hermione went on to explain how a Horcrux couldn’t be killed by any normal means of destruction, it has to be destroyed beyond magical repair. They had very few ideas on items that could do that. Thanks for all the clues, Dumbledore—not. 

They talked late into the night and Hermione’s found herself slumping further down the edge of Ron’s bed. They discussed Ron’s plan to hide his disappearance. Hermione was actually impressed with what he came up with. Admittedly, Mr Weasley was a big part of the plan in disguising the ghoul in the attic as Ron with spattergroit. But she had to give Ron a little credit, it was a good initiative. 

Hermione found herself yawning as they were about to discuss their plan about where to go, when loud thumps up the stairs led to the door flying open. A very cross Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway. 

“There are goblets and cutlery that need polishing! It needs to be done before the Delacours’ arrive tomorrow. Hurry up now!”

“Mum, its after midnight. We need to go to bed,” Ron said as gave an exaggerated yawn. 

“If you’re awake enough to sit around here chatting like a bunch of mother hens you might as well do it while your polishing silverware!” She gave each of them a stern look then stomped back down the stairs, leaving the door wide open.

They stifled laughs at the ridiculousness of the lengths Mrs Weasley was going to in her attempt to keep them apart. Hermione pushed herself up. At least they were all on the same page about Horcruxes, and they had a starting point. 

She would have to do her best to convince them to leave over the next few days. She didn’t dare tell Snape she had already failed her first task in getting them to leave. But time was running out. 


	4. Wedding Bells

There was no more time. It was finally the day of the wedding and Hermione sat at the breakfast table staring at her piece of toast with no intention of eating it. Her fingers twisted the moonstone ring mindlessly, though she never touched the stone. Snape hadn’t contacted her yet, and she had no interest in trialling it out. He would be furious to hear she hadn’t left yet, and furious was most likely an understatement. 

Hermione was out of both energy and patience in trying to convince Harry and Ron to leave early. Eye rolls and back chat were all she got from her attempts. Tension was high and her nerves were fraying more by the minute. 

She glanced at Harry; he appeared drained and paler than usual. Hermione suspected he was having nightmares again, but he said nothing and she didn’t ask. All around them Order members, Delacours, and more Weasleys than usual were rushing around like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Her mind turned to the previous day. Specifically, of the surprise visit from Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, and his interruption to Harry’s birthday celebrations which had caused quite a stir. It turned out Dumbledore had left them some rather odd items.

Of course, the Order had interrogated the three of them immediately after, but Mad-Eye seemed as perplexed about the items as the trio. Hermione was still wild that Scrimgeour wouldn’t let Harry have the sword of Gryffindor. But she rather liked her item. A book was always a lovely present, though she saw no practical use for the Tales of Beedle the Bard on their mission. It just added to her theories that Dumbledore was off his trolley. 

Harry poured himself a pumpkin juice and started helping himself to the bacon and sausages that has shuffled over to him.

“You all right, Hermione?”

“No, I think we should leave. Right now,” she whispered as she grabbed Harry's wrist to stop him from retrieving his bacon.

He gave her a pained look. “It’s okay to be worried Hermione, but we’ll get through this. Just let yourself enjoy something for a change.”

“Don’t patronise me, Harry Potter!” she hissed. “This is about staying alive and getting a job done.”

He gently peeled her fingers off his wrist one by one. “It’s a wedding, Hermione. Lighten up.”

“I wish I could slap some sense into you. But I know it wouldn’t do any good!” She spun around on her stool and stormed up the stairs before she did something she would regret. Those boys were idiots.

She reached Ginny’s room and gathered up her remaining items and shoved them without order into her bottomless bag. 

She then spent most of the day hiding from everyone and the last minute wedding tasks. She sat on the bed reading, but not turning many pages. Every hour that crept by had her wondering if she was doing the right thing. 

She considered telling Snape she had failed. Maybe warn him they would be there during the attack. Her palms got sweaty just thinking about it. She realised she would rather face a Death Eater attack than Snape’s disapproval. She could see it now, that sneer of his paired with a piercing look, everything about it telling her she was weak and not up to the task. No thank you. 

The sick feeling in her stomach grew as the hours went by. Relentless scenarios of the night played out and wore at her conscience. She feared her panic would either erupt as vomit in the middle of the wedding, or worse, as the truth. 

It came time to get ready for the wedding. She let Ginny flit around her, puffing magic powders on her cheeks and battling with her hair until it fell to her shoulders in perfect ringlets. Something she had never achieved herself. She forced a smile. “Thanks Ginny, it’s lovely.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Ginny said, as she started on her own makeup. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me, or I’ll put glitter and butterflies in your hair so you can match me and Gabrielle.”

Hermione sat on her hands to block out their constant trembling. “It just feels so wrong. Having a wedding when so many bad things are happening out there. And here we are, just sitting around adding more butterflies to our hair.”

“Don’t blame me for the butterflies, that’s all Fleur. And you can’t worry about the bad stuff all the time Hermione, you’ll forget to live. It’s okay to have fun sometimes, it’s what makes life worth living.”

“After all this is over, you shall be known forever more as Ginny the wise,” Hermione said in her most prophetic voice. Something soft hit the back of her head. Ginny’s toy pigmy-puff rolled across the floor (or what she hoped was the toy version).

Hermione stretched her neck and looked out the window at the marquee. Mrs Weasley and Madame Delecour were standing at the entrance to the tent rearranging flowers on either side of the arch in completely different ways. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. 

“Shut your pie hole. You know I’m right,” Ginny said as she smacked her lips, evening out her lipstick. She gave Hermione a cheesy smile. “Drink some wine, dance, shag someone in a closet. That’s what weddings are for, aren’t they?”

She raised an eyebrow at Ginny. “Maybe for you.”

“Maybe for you too, if you try it,” she gave Hermione a suggestive smile. 

“Remind me not to go near any closets with you.”

“Come on. Get dressed and we can start having some fun. You know Charlie’s single, right?”

She let Ginny drag her up. “Why are you trying to set me up with all your brothers?”

“Not all of them. Just Fred, or George, or Charlie. Not Bill, obviously. And not Ron, it’s just not right. Though you do have a lot in common with Percy,” she said, tapping her chin and staring out in thought.

“No, Ginny. I’m not sure how to say this any clearer.”

“Just leave it to me,” Ginny said as Hermione shook her head. 

Ginny had been an excellent distraction for a short while, but two hours later Hermione found herself seated between Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody, watching a rather bizarre wedding ceremony. Her nerves had since returned in full force and Hermione had to force her knees together to stop her legs shaking as she sat between the two Aurors. She was sure Mad-Eye was trying to read her mind. As illegal as non-consenting Legilimency was, she wouldn’t put it past Mad-Eye to give it a go. 

She forced up her Occlumency shields as far as they could go, pushing all important thoughts to the back of her mind, just as Snape had taught her. The Order of the Phoenix wanted to know what they were planning, but she wouldn’t be the weak link.

She focused on the wedding and smiled at Mad-Eye as he gave her a sideways glance. She joined in the clapping as a glowing vortex of light and sparkles enveloped Bill and Fleur in an overly showy kiss. A shout from the crowd caused Hermione to jump out of her seat, then looked around to see it was one of the twins. 

“A bit jumpy there, girl,” Mad-Eye said.

“A little.” She smiled politely and turned to the front.

“We’re the good side you know. These are the people you can trust.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Hermione said.

He leaned in close. “Dumbledore would have wanted us to help you kids. You can tell me what he told you. It’s safe,” he whispered, though not very quietly.

“Thank you. But we know what we are doing, you needn’t worry.” She wished he would shut up. She thought only of the wedding as something tugged at her mind. She forced forward thoughts of silly things. Cupcakes, flower arrangements, helping the bridesmaids with their dresses, adding more butterflies to Ginny’s hair at Fleur’s request.

Mad-Eye let out a small huff. All he saw was a silly girl. Nothing about Snape, nothing about Dumbledore, and nothing about the imminent attack. Her veins went icy with the thought. She widened her smile and kept her mind focused on the wedding.

More cheers went up, and soon everyone was jumping merrily from their seats. Chairs shot back to the walls of the tent and a dance floor appeared at the centre. A champagne fountain rose from nowhere and the glowing cascade of liquid began filling glasses. Trays of hovering drinks made their way around the room. Hermione plucked a glass from the tray and clung to it, but didn’t drink.

She looked around at everyone. So happy, so carefree, so stupid. She wanted to yell at them all to sober up and get into defensive positions, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood where she could see both entrances and kept her bag tied securely to her wrist so she could leave in an instant. She knew where Ron and Harry were at all times, always keeping a line of sight. 

A burst of yellow appeared at her side, Luna. “I heard you talking to the Auror before.”

“Hi Luna. Yes, he keeps trying to interrogate us.” She accepted a tiny sandwich Luna offered her. 

“He said something about this being the good side?” Luna stared dreamily across the dance floor.

“He did.” Hermione said, half listening, half watching where Ron and Harry were.

“He was wrong about the people. There is no good side.”

She glanced at Luna. “I’m not sure I’m following Luna.” She really didn’t have time for a speech about wrackspurts or blibering what-evers.

“There is no good and bad, black and white, or light and dark,” Luna said as she held Hermione’s cheek in her palm and gently turned her face. 

Hermione stared at Luna, who looked like she was moving in for a kiss. Hermione tensed. Instead, Luna looked down thoughtfully and tied something to her wrist. 

“What are you doing Luna?”

“We are all the colours between black and white, never at either end, but always somewhere in between. Not good, not bad. This is to remember that. And to remember you have friends.”

Hermione looked down at her wrist and a lightness filled her chest. It was a simple friendship bracelet in rainbow colours with a little wooden bead dangling from it. “Thanks Luna, it’s lovely. What exactly did you mean by that?”

“You’ll work it out. You’re the smartest person I know.” She skipped off to the champagne fountain and scooped up a glass and skipped off again. Hermione noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes and smiled. Strange girl. Hermione was quite sure she knew the difference between good and bad people, but at least Luna always meant well and the bracelet was sweet.

Hours passed and still nothing happened. Hermione was in a constant state of sweaty palms and jitters that wouldn’t let her sit still for a moment. She had to keep moving, keep watching. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that Snape might be wrong. Or perhaps this was some sort of test, or means to psyche her out. She had no idea why, but it certainly seemed like something he might do. 

She rolled her neck and sent a cushioning charm down to her feet for the tenth time that night. She hated heels. At least magic made them a little more practical. She made small talk with anyone who stopped in her area. Ginny dragged Charlie over at one point in an obvious attempt to set them up. At least Charlie was easy to talk to and fortunately had no interest in dancing or dating. They talked about dragons and life in Romania. It all sounded very exciting and kept Hermione distracted for a short while.

Charlie said goodbye and managed to sneak out of the tent which Hermione was desperate to leave herself. But Harry (still polyjuiced as some Weasley cousin) and Ron were still dancing and talking. Ron had given up on asking her to dance and had resorted to flailing around with Luna and Neville. 

“Ermione.” A familiar voice emerged behind her and she twisted around to find herself face to face with Victor Krum, looking as handsome as ever. “It is very nice to see you.”

“You too, Victor.” She took a sharp intake of breath and tried to act normal. 

“Will you dance with me?” 

“Um, no. Sorry. My feet… they hurt.” 

“You do not look happy. How about a walk outside the tent, you can take off those shoes, I will not tell,” he winked at her. 

She couldn’t say no. Maybe fresh air would help take her mind off the impending doom. She could see an attack coming better from outside anyway. Outside, the cool summer breeze of the garden smelled of rosemary and damp earth. She took off her shoes and let the grass tickle her feet. 

It was nice to catch up with Victor. She was genuinely interested in hearing about his skyrocketing Qudditch career. It was a welcome distraction. 

They reminisced about the Triwizard cup (the good bits), and Viktor shared his disdain at seeing Grindelwald’s mark on a piece of jewellery on Luna’s father. It all took Hermione’s mind off reality and she found herself relaxing as they sat on a mound of earth against a crumbling stone wall and looked up at the stars as the party roared behind them.

Viktor pulled out a bottle of vodka and two small glasses materialised in his hand. “Wine is for babies. We will drink the vodka,” he said.

Hermione giggled at his seriousness in his statement. 

It was now well into the night and still no sign of attack. An owl in the tree overhead called out. She had always liked owls, and its presence as a good omen. Perhaps Snape’s intention had just been to scare her after all. Her brain could do with some numbing after the day she’d had. 

She rationalised everything, and the more she thought about it, the more she realised it was exactly what Snape might do to get them to start the quest sooner. She came to the conclusion that the attack would not happen after all. She briefly closed her eyes and let the relief sink in. All that waiting and worrying for nothing.

She accepted the glass and Viktor poured two very large shots of Vodka. They raised them to the sky and to the owl.

“To the wedded couple, I wish them many happinesses,” Viktor announced. 

“Here, here.” They clinked glasses and the icy liquid burned its way into Hermione’s very empty stomach. She squeezed her face up, then blinked her eyes open to see Viktor smiling. 

“Your drinking is very good,” he said, and poured them another.

Hermione’s limbs warmed, and the anxiety numbed into a distant concern. She accepted another drink, and they toasted to defeating Voldemort. This time she needed a chaser of water to get through it.

“You liked my latest gift?” Viktor asked, as he leaned back against the stone wall and looked up at the night sky.

“Very much, I wear it all the time, thank you,” she replied, but her mind had turned back to the tent, trying to identify Ron and Harry’s voices amongst the crowd.

Midway through the third shot, a sudden jolt ran up her spine and then dropped to her stomach. It wasn’t from the vodka. A flash of white light shot into the tent and a booming voice followed. 

_“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_

Hermione sprang to her feet and swayed a little as she leaned against Victor and stayed upright. “I’ve got to go.” She ran straight into a tent of chaos. 

A ghostly red glow of warning lights flashed across the tent. Shocked faces searched for loves ones and cracks of Disapparating echoed all around. Hermione stumbled onto Harry by accident. He grabbed her hand and together bolted to the back of the tent.

“I saw Ron go this way!” he yelled.

A crackling of electricity filled the air and everything went black. “Ron!” Hermione screamed.

“I’m here.” A hand reached out in the dark and grabbed her dress. “It’s me, Ron,” he said. 

“Thank the gods your here. Harry grab my hand, you too Ron.” She took in a breath and fire erupted all around them. They dropped to the floor, smoke choking the air and stinging her eyes. Her concentration was all over the show. Spells shattered on chairs and tables all around them.

_It’s now or never_ , she told herself. 

She focused all her energy into the three of them and pulled them away. The air went cold. Everything went quiet.


	5. Unwelcome Wedding Guests

The hoard of Death Eaters ripped through the wedding tent without mercy. Severus watched as the white fabric blackened and curled and flames consumed everything they touched. He hovered near the tent entrance as Bella exploded her way through anything in her path. The others, all dressed in the same ridiculous mask as himself, followed suit. Though none possessed the blind vengeance that Bella so naturally demonstrated.

Severus wandered outside the tent, aiming _Everte Statum_ toward any guests that escaped. He watched as they were knocked back and scrambled like spiders to get up and scuttle off. He was glad of his mask. Both hiding his identity and his lack of enthusiasm for the task. 

He studied every guest that ran from the tent and started firing spells accordingly. Most spells harmless, a few were aimed to do precise damage. Warning shots, if you will. Or in the Weasley boy’s case, a lesson in being too cocky. Losing an ear might teach him just how real this was. 

Half an hour later, and only a few Order members and Aurors remained. Their retaliation of curses were giving the Death Eaters a good run for their money. Judging from the lack of civilians, Severus had to assume they received advanced warning before they arrive, but not advanced enough to shut down the festivities. 

He hadn’t seen Hermione, and would like to have assumed she had followed his instructions and succeeded in leaving early, had it not been for the stream of emotions he felt pour from the ring as he arrived. He could only assume she had left at the very last moment. Foolish girl. 

“Do you think we can leave soon?” Draco appeared at his side. 

“Once your aunt has her fill, we will leave. There isn’t too much damage she can do here at least,” he said as a fiery explosion rocked the Weasley’s precariously balanced house. Shattered wood flew in all directions and blue glowing flames poured down the collapsing walls of the house like a waterfall. Severus flicked his hand as a rain of fire and debris came down on them and bounced off his shield. Draco cowered on the ground with his hands on his head. 

“Reactions, Draco, are everything.”

Draco looked up and winced. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you were not. I won’t always be here to protect you. You must not act like this in front of the Dark Lord. He does not tolerate weakness.”

He left Draco and did a sweep of the area for anyone who might be hiding. He overlooked a couple cowering in a hedgerow and averted his gaze to a distance field when he spotted the Lovegood girl sitting serenely amongst a pile of gnomes. 

Bellatrix had done a more thorough job of destruction than anyone else and had two wedding guests tied up and cowering before her. Severus made his way to her side, checking Hermione was not one of the two. All the Order members had since retreated. It appeared they had become soft since the first Wizarding War and had forgotten what it meant to truly fight for your life. If this wasn’t enough of a taste, he was sure they would remember soon enough. 

Severus surveyed the area. A destroyed Order safe house and a crashed wedding. He could certainly spin it in a way that Voldemort would see as a success. 

Not so good for their prisoners. He didn’t recognise them as anyone important. There was nothing he could do for them. 

His hand flinched involuntarily as his ring grew hot and an image flashed through his mind. He turned away to focus on the ring. He saw Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle, knocked out cold on the floor of a coffee shop. Without hesitation, he pressed his thumb to the ring and thought a message straight back to her- _Obliviate them. Go somewhere safe._

A surge of acknowledgement flowed back through the ring. He forced his focus back to the scene at hand. Lucius and Bella _crucioed_ the two prisoners as Draco stood beside them. Severus distanced himself, but even from his position he could see Draco’s eyes glass over, his hands clenched into fists at his side. There was no way that boy would survive the war. And didn’t look like it would end well for these prisoners. 

Severus withdrew and wandered the grounds. He subtly set a few restoration charms on the Burrow as he went. He scattered logs from the woodpile around the lawn, which he then enlarged and set fire to, to give that look of extra destruction. As he made his turn about the garden, a large orange cat followed. 

When he stopped, the cat head butted him and curled around his legs, leaving a trail of orange hair along his black robes. He bent down and patted it briefly.

“You should bugger off if you know what’s good for you,” he told the cat. It gave a small brrrpp and trotted off to curl up on the stone wall. 

Forty-five minutes had passed and Severus was growing impatient with Bellatrix and the drawn out torture. He started marching toward her to put an end it it when his ring began to warm again. He turned toward the dark field and focused on the moonstone until an image come through.

_Grimmauld Place._

That stupid girl! He could feel his blood pressure rising. He would have to show her the safe house sooner rather than later. One step out of line Apparating to the narrow Grimmauld Place porch and it would be over for her and those idiots. He knew a round-the-clock guard was stationed right outside that very house, waiting like cats ready to pounce. He could only hope she was the one doing the transporting. 

He pressed the ring with his thumb and felt the connection. A warm hum filled his hand, followed by a buzz of anxiety, and questions bounced back from her side. He pushed his own feelings of frustration and discontent back through the ring with as much force as he dared. She needed to learn control. 

‘Stay there’ he thought at her. He sent a clear image of Bella firing off killing curses and the Burrow exploding, in hopes of her understanding the reality of it. 

He expected a wave of fear to wash back through the ring. Instead, relief and compassion pushed their way through his finger and into his blood. He pressed his sleeve over the ring to stop the connection. Then shook out his hand as if he could flick off the feelings like water. 

“Are you quite all right, Severus? You look like you touched a Mudblood,” Bella said with a bout of unsettling laughter. 

“I’m fine, Bella. I’ve had enough of this place and its filth. Enough fun, let us return to the Manor.”

“You’re such a spoil-sport Severus. But you’re right. There isn’t even anyone worth torturing.” He noticed the two slumped bodies behind her. “Funny how they all scattered like a bunch of Hufflepuffs. We didn’t even get a good fight,” she said.

“Next time, Bella.” He turned into the night. The lies for the Dark Lord already constructed and sitting on the tip of his tongue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! There is longer one up next and coming very soon.


	6. Grimmauld Place

Hermione landed them on the porch of with barely a millimetre to spare. They teetered on the edge of the step for a split second before she yanked both hands she was holding forward with full force and slammed the boys into the front door. Their momentum pulled her safely off the step, and she clutched the door handle to regain balance. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “It was either that or tumble down the stairs.” She winced as Harry and Ron rubbed their noses. 

“It’s fine, Hermione. Lets just get in,” Harry said. 

Harry let them in and they experienced Mad-Eye’s tongue-tying curse first hand. Hermione performed _Homenum revelio_ to check no one else was there.

“It looks safe,” she said, looking back at Ron and Harry. She inhaled a breath of relief and with it half a room of dust. She coughed her way up the stairs as they headed for the first floor drawing room. Once there, she drank half a bottle of water to wash down the dust and peered out the window alongside Ron. It didn’t look as if anyone had followed them, but that didn’t mean it was safe. 

Exhausted from the full day of wedding activities, the attack, and then having to fight the Death Eaters in that cafe, Hermione allowed herself to slump onto a grimy chair and not move. The room was dingy and coated in a layer of dust, with the only light emanating from eerie gas lamps. 

Her veins were still pumping with adrenaline from the encounter. She was sure Snape would be proud if he saw the way she handled those Death Eaters. She had acted quickly and strategically with every attack spell hitting its mark. Plus, she had performed her first successful _Obliviate_ , and all after drinking. Not too bad. Though she wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon. 

She used the last of her energy to throw a spell at the fireplace, and the flames crackled to life, bringing a much needed cosiness to the room. Harry and Ron moved to the sofas sitting opposite each other near the fire, and Hermione remained in her surprisingly comfy armchair. The words were bursting out of her to say ‘I told you so.’ But she knew it wouldn’t help and so she held her tongue.

As if Harry read her mind. “Hermione, did you know the wedding was going to be attacked?” he said. 

The blood drained from her face and she did her best not to react. “Of course not Harry. Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you, Hermione. You’ve been begging us to leave for the past two days. You haven’t been eating, and you have some mysterious contact who is supposed to be giving you inside Death Eater intel. It has to be a Death Eater and they must have known this was planned.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know who it is. I just get the messages. And no, I had no idea this would happen.” She gripped the cushion next to her. Ron looked between them blowing out his cheeks and then released a loud breath. 

A whoosh of white light broke the tension and Hermione ducked under the cushion. A Patronus in the shape of a weasel appeared in the centre of the room and Hermione sat back up. 

‘ _Family is safe, do not reply, we are being watched_.’ It was clearly Mr Weasley’s voice.

Ron let out an audible sigh of relief. Hermione let herself relax a little, and Harry ran off to the bathroom in a hurry.

They spent the rest of the night not talking. Tension hung in the air like an extra layer of dust, not something the trio, nor the house needed. At least Harry and Ron acknowledged Hermione’s preparations once they discovered she had packed so many useful supplies, including sleeping bags. They all decided to sleep in the same room just to be safe. 

As she stared into the darkness, all Hermione could think about was the look Harry had given her. He didn’t believe her, and she hated lying. She had no idea how she would get through this. She let the silent tears trickle down the corners of her eyes and into her hair as she twisted the moonstone ring around her finger. 

At least she had a chance to try out the ring in an emergency and knew it worked. But she had also felt Snape’s displeasure pulse through from the other side. It was safe to say he was not happy she chose to go to Grimmauld place. 

* * *

  
Hermione must have eventually drifted off to sleep. But it felt like only a minute had passed and she was waking up again. Or more accurately, being woken by an annoying voice in her ear. She cracked her eye open to see a shard of too-bright light piercing through a gap in the thick curtains. 

“What Ron?” she tried to turn away from the light.

“It’s Harry I don’t know where he is,” Ron said. 

She sat bolt upright and tried to untangle herself from the sleeping bag and found herself in the same clothes as the day before. “Come on then.”

They spent a good fifteen minutes searching the house. Making their way up floor by floor, calling out to Harry. They finally reached the top floor and Hermione pushed the door open and found him sitting amongst piles of letters in Sirius’s old room. Hermione could have strangled him. But she remembered his look for the night before and kept her mouth shut.

“We were worried about you, Harry,” she said, slumping to the ground next him. Her mouth was dry, and she suddenly realised how hungry she was.

“Sorry. I got distracted.” He looked at his watch. “Blimey. It’s lunch time already.”

Ron joined them on the ground and Hermione _Accioed_ her water bottle from the drawing room. It flew into her hand and she gulped it down, hoping it would ease the headache that was coming on.

“Wish I could do that,” Ron said.

“You could if you practised,” Hermione responded. She turned to Harry and asked what he had discovered. 

At least Harry was in good spirits and seemed to have found something useful. Ron and Hermione shuffled closer to the pile of letters and dead spiders to get a closer look (which caused more than a few girlish squeals from Ron). Harry showed them the letters his mum wrote to Sirius. Then they actually had a productive discussion about Horcruxes. Harry shared what he learnt at the wedding about Dumbledore’s secret past. It all sounded rather suspicious to Hermione. A cruel mother, a dead sister, a muggle hating father, the duel with Grindelwald. There was a lot they didn’t know about their old Headmaster.

Their conversation ended with a discussion about Godric’s Hollow and how Bathilda Bagshot might be someone they could seek out for answers. Hermione sensed this might be a bad idea, but it wasn’t the right time to argue. She was famished and desperately wanted to get downstairs to find food. 

They left the room and Harry paused in the doorway. Hermione watched as his eyes grew wide and he took two steps across the hall and tapped his finger against a small plaque on the door. 

“I know who R. A. B is,” Harry said, as he traced his fingers over the letters. 

“That’s brilliant, Harry!” Hermione said with a flutter of hope in her stomach.

Hermione convinced them to have lunch before conducting a sweep of the house for Kreacher. They heated up two cans of baked beans and had some ghastly instant coffee before starting their hunt. It didn’t take long to find Kreacher, but it was hours of interrogation and mudblood insults aimed at Hermione before Kreacher actually told them anything useful.

Kreacher finally gave in after Harry threatened to destroy the portrait of Mrs Black. He broke down in great sobs as he told the story of how Regulus sent him back with the locket and how he left his master to die. Harry finally him to focus and they got down to the truth. 

It all led back to one scum bag—Mundungus Fletcher. Mundungus had apparently stolen the locket, and Kreacher clearly blamed himself. Despite his extensive vocabulary of insults about Hermione’s family, her magic and her appearance, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

Harry eventually settled Kreacher down with a series of compliments that were blatant lies, but Kreacher seemed to accept them as truth from his new master. Harry then sent Kreacher off in search of Mundungus Fletcher, and their only hope of getting the locket. Hermione had low expectations for this plan. As much as she hated the idea, she knew she had to tell Snape. 

Later that afternoon, she shut herself in the library. Instead of starting her search for dark magic books (which is what she told Harry and Ron she was doing), she sat in another comfy armchair. She took a deep breath and looked at the ring while biting her lip. It wasn’t the same as contacting Snape when she was in danger. This was far scarier. 

She closer her eyes and pressed her thumb to the moonstone. It warmed under her touch and she focused on her message- ‘ _I need to talk to you._ ’

A simple message, but one she was confident she could relay. The other option was trying to explain about the Horcruxes, the locket, and that they needed to find Mundungus Fletcher. She was sure she couldn’t convey all that successfully through the ring. She didn’t even know how they worked.

A very long ten seconds later, the ring warmed. ‘ _Tomorrow night_.’ An image of Grimmauld Place followed. Her heart skipped a beat. She hoped she had ‘read’ that right. He was coming here. 

_Oh dear_ , was the first thought to pop to her mind. It made sense, but was also highly concerning having Harry and Ron in the same house.

* * *

  
Kreacher still hadn’t returned that night. Harry had taken to pacing around the drawing room endlessly. Hermione’s own nervous energy about Snape's visit tomorrow night only added to the tension in the room. It didn’t help that The Death Eaters no longer hid in the shadows. The house was being watched day and night, as they prowled up and down the street in full sight like waiting lions. Ron sat at the window constantly watching their movements and muttering under his breath. 

Hermione stayed awake to take note of what time Ron and Harry fell sleep. She hadn’t a clue when Snape would arrive the next night, and she wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be around to bump into him. As a test, she crept out of bed and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She banged around for a while, then popped her head back into the drawing room to check they were still asleep. 

It should be fine. But just to be sure, she rummaged through Sirius’s old potion store cupboards and found a strong sleeping draught she could easily add to tea. She found an old biscuit tin and hid it in there for easy access. She also came across a number of other useful potions to add to her bag. Most of them had expired, but were still better than nothing.

They spent the next day getting on each other’s nerves and bickering. Hermione was both dreading Snape’s visit and wishing it would hurry up to get it over with. She sat in her sleeping bag on the floor reading the Tales of Beedle and the Bard over and over, hoping Dumbledore had at least left a secret code or something useful in there. 

Finally the sky darkened, and the soft orange slow that had filled the drawing room was replaced with a grey-scale palette that reflected Hermione’s mood rather accurately. To keep busy, she wandered into the kitchen and started on dinner, which comprised things in cans she found in the cupboard. Far from a gourmet meal, but at least it was hot. Harry was the only one who knew how to cook, and he seemed rather preoccupied. 

They sat in sombre silence as they ate. It turned out no-brand bolognese sauce did not go well with tinned peas and sweet corn. Hermione suggested making tea to wash it all down, and no one objected. 

She carefully tipped the tea into the cups, then looked over her shoulder. Harry and Ron had started a new game of gobstones. She held her breath and with shaking hands added her special ingredient to the teacups. She watched as they took their first sips and silently exhaled as they proceeded with their game. They didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. 

Soon enough Harry and Ron went to bed. Hermione followed, but lay in the dark, her muscles tensed and all her attention focused on the ring. She didn’t dare touch it. As the minutes crept by she was afraid that if the ring suddenly warmed, she would scream or jump in reaction. 

She couldn’t lie there waiting any longer. Once she was sure Ron and Harry were fast asleep, she got up and settled herself in the kitchen. She hadn’t worried about what she would wear this time, since she had few items to select from and clothes seemed to be the least of her problems right now. She stuck with her favourite jeans, a dark v-neck t-shirt, and a pink zip up hoodie.

She had a collection of books she found earlier in the library sitting in front of her. She attempted to read but couldn’t concentrate. A faint breeze brushed a strand of hair across her face. She looked up and suddenly Snape was standing in front of her. 

“Good evening, Hermione.” He was dressed in his usual black robes and stood there leaning against the sink with arms crossed as if he had been there the whole time. 

“Good grief, you’re like a bloody vampire!” Hermione said as she slammed the book shut. 

He let out a chuckle. The out of character laugh, and the use of her first name threw Hermione instantly. 

“I’ll take it you meant that as a compliment. I do pride myself in stealth.” He frowned as he looked into the sink where she had left all the empty tins. 

She clicked her brain back into gear and pushed away the strangeness of the situation. “Would you like some tea?” She stood up abruptly. 

His eyes scanned the kitchen, then looked back at her. “No. Thank you. How about a change of venue? Then tea.” 

“Um, okay. Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see when we get there. Your companions?” 

“Asleep. Very asleep,” she said, allowing herself a small smirk. 

“Good. I see you’ve paid attention to at least some of our lessons.” Her mind flashed to Snapes office briefly. The distinct smell of books and potions, the late nights and endless exercises in defencive magic, survival, healing and occlumency. All were fine in theory, but she worried about the practical side. She hoped Snape didn’t have any tests planned for her tonight. 

She slid her hand into her pocket to check her wand was still there, then slipped her beaded bag cord around her wrist and turned towards the door. She wasn’t going to do anything to dampen Snape's unusually good mood. Especially when she was sure he was going to berate her at some point for her choice in hideouts. 

“Lead the way.” She gestured.

Snape headed out and Hermione followed closely. He opened the door and slipped out the font porch, Hermione squeezed out behind him and clicked the door shut softly. He held out his arm out in a gentlemanlike manner, and she slipped her arm into his. She held her breath as they were instantly yanked away, and far more violently than when Apparating herself. 

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself standing on another dark porch, squeezing the life out of Snape’s arm. She let go quickly. Rain dripped steadily from the narrow doorway overhang and Hermione pulled her hood on to shelter from the splashes. Snape took out his wand and started muttering into the lock. It glowed green, then red, then blue, and then a series of whirls and clicks followed.

“Where are we?” she whispered, as cold drips trickled down her neck. 

“At the safe house. Be silent. I need to add you in to all the security wards before we can enter. Here.” He handed her a piece of paper with an address on it. She read it and remained silent. He was making her a secret keeper of his house.

“I need a piece of your hair,” he said without looking up. 

She plucked a hair or three from her head and handed them to him.

She watched as he turned his focus from the lock and his nimble fingers wound the hair around the end of his wand. He then raised it to do a wide sweep that encompassed the house is a web of fine lines that glimmered with tendrils of light. 

She watched in awe and grasped the fact that she was seeing a celestial spiders-web ward being performed before her very eyes, a rare and complicated spell she had read about but never witnessed, and one of the highest level of protections possible. This was no minor spell, it took a great deal of energy and magical strength to complete. It also meant that he was weaving Hermione’s own magic into it. Letting her become a guardian of the house and therefore allowing her the ability to bring others in and give defence commands if needed.

She felt the gentle tug of her magic being threaded into that of the house. It didn’t hurt, it was more like a cotton reel gently unspooling. She balanced herself on the porch rail and a mild wave of dizziness washed over her. 

“It is complete,” Snape said abruptly. He looked over at Hermione. “Are you well?”

“I’m good,” she said as she forced herself upright and dispelled the feelings of nausea.

Snape tapped the lock, and they entered the house with no resistance. It seemed the wards had accepted her. 

She shut the door behind her and a hiss of air released as the locks reset. A coat stand scuttled over to Snape and he took off his robe to hang on the reached out arm of the stand. As the stand whisked itself away, a wave of familiar smells drifted past her—Snape’s cologne mixed with thyme that he often used in potion making. 

She let out an involuntary shiver. Perhaps Snape noticed, or perhaps he was wet from the rain too. Either way, he sent a fireball at the logs in the Victorian style fireplace. Hermione peeled off her hoodie and draped it over the chair by the fire to dry. She looked around as Snape drifted off to the next room.

It was a small sitting room that smelled of wood-fire smoke and musty books. Every wall was a bookshelf. It made the room feel small, but she imagined it could be cosy with a little tidying up. The sofa, arm chair, coffee table and floor also acted as bookshelves with mounds of old books, scrolls and bits of parchments covering most of the surfaces. 

She followed Snape through the doorway and found him in a small kitchen making tea. She sat herself down at the circular dining table tucked into one corner. 

“Does You-know-Who know about this place? How do you keep it a secret?” she asked as her eyes glanced around the outdated kitchen. 

“He knows. But I have two houses at Spinners End. The neighbouring one is my cover, this one is a secret. Hidden and untraceable to all but me. And now you,” he added.

She realised what a risk it was for him to bring her here. She swallowed, waiting for him to start on everything she had done wrong already. 

“Out with it then. Why did you need to see me?” Snape said as he walked over with a tray of tea.

“We have a lead on a Horcrux,” she said, getting straight to the point as she accepted the with a thank you. It felt oddly comfortable to be sitting there. Snape looked almost friendly without his characteristic robes on. He wearing all black, with black trousers and long sleeved button-up shirt that fit him rather well. 

Hermione couldn’t help but stare when he rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and lazily twisted his teacup around, then turned toward her. This casual look had Hermione seeing him in a whole new light. She decided she liked it. It somehow softened him and made him more approachable. 

“Go on,” he said as he added milk to his cup.

“We believe it’s the locket. The one Dumbledore and Harry found the fake of. You see, it was Regulus Black who took the original and left the note. And the house-elf at Grimmauld place, Kreacher, ended up with it when Regulus died. We then found out from Kreacher that it was Mundungus that stole it, and Harry sent Kreacher off to find him,” she said all at once.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Mundungus bloody Fletcher.” He shook his head and took a sip of tea. “Trust him to find something this important. He would have hocked it off to some dark antiques dealer by now.”

“Do you know how to find him?” 

“I have an idea. What does the locket look like?”

Hermione started to describe it when she realised it would be easier just to show him. She put her thumb on the ring, closed her eyes and pushed through an image of the locket.

If he was impressed by her control of the communication ring, he didn’t mention it. “Good. I’ll see what I can do. What else have you found?”

She told him about the visit they had from Scrimgeour and the items Dumbledore left them. He was particularly interested in the sword of Gryffindor, but so was everyone it seemed. She told him about Harry’s idea of checking out Godric’s Hollow, which he advised against due to the fact that it was always under Death Eater surveillance. They then discussed in great detail all the items they could think of that could be Horcruxes. It didn’t narrow it down a great deal, but they both agree that symbols of the Hogwarts founders were the most likely targets to look for. 

It was well into the early morning hours when they got through all the topics they needed to discuss. Rain clattered on the roof and they moved to the sitting room. Hermione’s hoodie was dry and toasty when she put it back on. Snape offered her a Firewhiskey, but she declined knowing she would have to Apparate onto the top step at Grimmauld Place and didn’t fancy toppling down to meet the Death Eater watchmen. 

She yawned as she sat in the chair right by the fire, staring into the mesmerising flames. She would’ve been happy to curl up and sleep right there. But she had to get back before the boys woke up. She checked her watch, it was 5am. She calculated they should wake up in four hours, but wanted to get back well before then. 

“I better head off soon,” she said.

“Of course. I have something for you first.” He went upstairs and returned carrying a small bottle, which he handed to her.

“Perfume?” she said, tilting her head to the side.

“Not exactly.”

“It’s magic?”

“Of course. It’s a new creation of mine.”

She took off the cap and cautiously sniffed the top without spraying it. “Jasmine, and—somehow it smells like sun on a field in summer? And something else…” 

“Close enough,” he said. “You probably don’t want to know the secret ingredient. The substance doesn’t yet have a name, but its job is to make the user alert and focused.”

“Like cocaine?”

“No, Miss Granger. Not like cocaine.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “It concerns me you came up with that comparison first.”

“Fine. Pretend I said caffeine.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She definitely needed to get to sleep.

“It is not a drug. It clears the mind and sharpens one’s focus. Without the side effects of other substances.”

“Sounds interesting. How do you use it?”

“You can spray it in the air and inhale the mist directly, or you can spray it on the wrists for a more long lasting, gradual use. You may try it now if you wish. I can assure you it is safe.” 

She spritzed the air in front of her and cautiously breathed in the fine mist. She closed her eyes and rolled her head around as it spread throughout her face. Her eyes popped open and ideas flashed past her eyes with perfect logic. 

“Wow,” she said. “I need to go do some research.”

“Very well. I thought it might be good for you to try it before Apparating back.” His tone indicating his lack of faith in her Apparition abilities. 

“I’m good at Apparating now,” she argued.

“You are inexperienced and landing at Grimmauld is dangerous.” 

She dismissed his comment. “I’ll help you come up with a name for this, it’s brilliant.” Her mind was honed in, but not wired or buzzy. Just right. 

“You better return before those idiots wake up from whatever you dosed them with. If you need to return here, you may do so any time. If there is an emergency and you need to bring others here, you may do so, but do not give away the location of the house. Blindfold them if you must. The wards will respond to you.”

“Thank you Severus,” she said with newfound confidence. “Let me know if you hear anything about Mundungus or the locket.”

“I certainly will.” By the calculating look on his face, she knew he already had something planned.

She said goodbye and stepped onto the porch. Within seconds she was on firmly on the top step of Grimmauld Place without so much as a waver. She unlocked the door and tiptoed in. The boys were still asleep. She spent half an hour in the library looking up things until the magic spray wore off. 

Her eyelids grew heavy and the burden of needing sleep crept up on her rapidly. She made it in to her bed on the floor just in time. She fell on top of her sleeping bag and went straight to sleep.

* * *

  
She woke to a loud crash and squinted into the bright light that filled the room. It appeared to be late morning, and she was still very short on sleep. She squeezed her eyes, trying to force herself to wake up, then remembered Severus’s perfume. Her bag was within reach. She got the bottle and spritzed it on her wrists and sniffed them.

A refreshing alertness flowed through her. She was still tired, but at least her brain had switched on. Had she imagined the noise that woke her up?

Her ring warmed, and she closed her eyes to absorb the message. 

‘ _Heads up_ ’. With an unusual sense of amusement behind it. 

Another loud bang sounded from the kitchen. She jumped up and raced toward the noise.

Harry and Ron stood over a tied up Mundungus Fletcher, who was writhing around on the kitchen floor. Kreacher was screeching at him and banging pots above his head, demanding the location of the locket. 

“I already told the other guy!” Mundungus croaked. “Get me out of these blasted ropes.” The ropes only grew tighter, causing him to scrunch up like a caterpillar.

“What other guy? Where is the locket?” Harry said, as he crouched down glaring at Mundungus. 

“I dunno. I can’t remember. I’ll tell you too if you just bloody well let me up.”

“Come on then, Harry,” Hermione said. With a swish of her wand the ropes shrivelled up like vines going back into the earth and the horrible greasy man sat there rubbing his wrists.

“Well, get on with it then,” Ron said.

“It was that toad woman at the Ministry. I sold it to ‘er. Bitch of a woman, but she paid top dollar for it.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked around the kitchen suspiciously. 

The three of them exchanged looks of disgust. They all knew who he meant. Kreacher screeched and starting hitting Mundungus over the head with the frying pan. He was surprisingly strong for such a small fellow, and Hermione didn’t feel the need to stop him. Her mind reeled. How the hell would they get the locket from her?

Harry was the one to put a stop to Kreacher’s assault. “Get out of here before I do something I regret you piece of shit,” Harry said in a low, barely controlled voice.

Mundungus didn’t need telling twice. He scrambled to his feet, toppled Kreacher over and was out the door faster than one would expect for a man of his apparent fitness level.  
  
“Cup of tea?” Hermione asked as if nothing had happened. 

Harry stood there seething and Kreacher could still be heard in the hallway crying out for vengeance for poor master Regulus. Ron looked at Hermione and shook his head as if he didn’t believe what he just saw. “I’ll have one thanks.”

Hermione made the tea and considered just how bad their luck was that one of their most hated people on earth was the one with the locket. Umbridge. It was almost comical. She made the tea and sat down by Ron. She pushed a cup over to Harry who sat with his head in his hands staring into space. 

“You smell different Hermione,” Ron said, not as a compliment, nor an insult.

“You have wonderful deduction skills, Ron,” she said sarcastically.

“I mean, its nice. Is what I meant.” 

“Thank you. I found it rummaging around in Sirius’s old potion stores. There’s all sort of useful things in there.”

“We have to get it off her. We must go to the Ministry,” Harry said as he banged a fist onto the table.

“Bad idea,” Hermione said. “The Ministry is literally the worst place on earth we could go to.”

“I know, but we have to take the risk. It’s the only Horcrux we know for sure and we should go for it.”

“I think we should plan this better,” she said. 

“We’ll plan today and go tomorrow. No waiting around. We’ll just do it,” Harry said.

Ron looked bewildered, but even he knew it was a bad idea to argue with Harry when he was in such a state.

“Sure Harry, we can work out a plan.” Hermione said, patting his hand. _When hell freezes over_ , she thought to herself. “I’m just going to go over there…” she looked toward the door. “To the library… to start planning. Bye.” She raced out the door and into the hallway.

She pressed her thumb to the ring. And thought over and over again, ‘ _Harry’s going to go to the Ministry to get the locket from Umbridge!_ ’ Surely repeating it would get through to Severus. 

‘ _When?_ ’ The reply came back.

‘ _Tomorrow_ ’, she showed the ring.

‘ _I’m already on it. Do what it takes to stop him leaving_.’ The message came through as clear as her own thoughts. 

She would need something stronger than a sleeping draught this time. There was no way she was letting Harry go to the Ministry. 


	7. The Locket

Stupid bloody Potter. If this was the way he planned on handling his task, then they might as well give themselves over to the Dark Lord now. Severus stepped from the cool green flames and shook out his robe as he entered the Ministry of Magic. He marched down the long gallery with his shoulders back and his robes billowing behind in what he hoped was a dramatic fashion.

Crowds parted as he stormed his way toward the lobby. He held back a smirk as people jumped out from his path. His new role as murderer of Dumbledore certainly had its benefits. No one there would touch him. He reached the lobby and made a beeline for the elevators, heading toward a particularly crowded one, which caused several people to panic and scramble to get out as he entered.

His face was a perfect mask of composure, but beneath it was nothing but bitterness and loathing. He stepped from the elevator and navigated several winding corridors before forcing his way into Dolores Umbridge’s office without knocking.

“Severus, what a surprise,” she said overly sweetly. The army of kitten plates behind her mewed and squeaked in an over the top, sickening manner behind her. He repressed a shudder at the onslaught of ribbon, pinkness, and frills. She stood up and gestured for him to sit.

“Dolores. I’m afraid it isn’t glad tidings I bring.” He sat down in the powderpuff armchair. 

“Oh come now Severus, we were colleagues once. I’ll call an elf to bring us tea and we can catch up.”

“No.”

“No?” she said with a pouty face and fluttering eyelashes. 

He shuddered for real this time, glad her over sized desk stood between them. Did that work on anyone?

“I’ll get straight to the point, Dolores. I happen to know your mother was a muggle,” he said sharply, hoping for a forceful impact. 

She scrunched her neck back like a tortoise and as tilted her head to the side. He noticed the locket sway out from under her cardigan.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Severus. Here have a sweetie.” She pushed a bowl of pink hard candy toward him. It continued to inch closer to him until he knocked it away.

“Now Dolores. I think you’ll want to listen. We wouldn’t want that bit of news slipping out now, would we?”

“Don’t you threaten me, Severus. I know how loyal you were to Dumbledore. Who knows where your loyalties lie now? Such horrible rumours can find their away around just as easily. Don’t you think?” Her voice overly high and jittery. 

“You are correct. I was loyal to Dumbledore for many years.” He leaned in closer. “I had great respect for the man. But I did what was right.” He paused and looked her right in the eye. “I killed him,” he said with a bite that left a weighted silence in the air. Even the kittens stopped mewing.

Dolores swallowed and went a bright enough shade of pink to match the ridiculously frilly hat perched atop her head. “Now Severus—”

He cut her off. “No. Dolores. I need something from you and you will cooperate.”

“I most certainly will not! I happen to know your own heritage, Severus Snape. Your own father was a muggle,” she spat the words.

Severus calmly leaned back in his chair once more. “The Dark Lord is well aware of my heritage and utilises me as he sees fit due to my skill set. You on the other hand…”

“Why I never! You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would. I will tell him that your mother was a filthy muggle and you are not fit to serve in his new world.” Severus narrowed his eyes at her. “And I suggest you do as I ask.”

“He allows you in his service.” She waved her hand toward him rudely. “Why should he not allow me? I’m just as worthy."

“Do you honestly believe the new Minister of Magic would want someone tainted with muggle blood running his Muggle-born Registration Committee?”

Her demeanour changed as she fussed with the bow on her blouse and puffed out her chest. “He’s considering me to run the committee?” Her voice softened. 

“You didn’t hear it from me. But yes, he is,” he said calmly, though would have preferred to hex her then and there. 

“Very well then, Severus. I concede to your blackmail. What is it you want?”

“That locket,” he nodded to the Horcrux resting on her blouse of flowery frills.

“This old thing?” she scoffed. “It is a family heirloom, I can hardly part with it.”

“Another family's heirloom, perhaps.” He sneered. “According to my genealogy books, the _Umbridges_ have no ties to any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, nor any other prominent magical families I am aware of.”

She gave a weak cough and held her nose in the air. “We have many connections you many not be aware of Severus.”

“Very well. I shall go to the Dark Lord later today and inform him of your blood status. I’m to visit him after my meeting here with the new Minister of Magic you see.” He stood up and brushed off his robe. He turned and purposefully strode toward the door.

“No, No! Wait!” She bounced up from her seat and trotted after him. “Here, have the blasted necklace!” She pulled it over her head and forced it into his hand. 

“Wise decision.” A chill swept over him as the locket pulsed in his hand. He shoved it in his pocket and held back a shiver. 

“You will put in a good word for me, won’t you now Severus?” Her face morphed into that of a pathetic begging puppy. Though in a puppy it would have been endearing, this woman was a monster.

“Goodbye Dolores.” He removed himself from her office as quickly as possible and congratulated himself on his superior manipulation skills. He proceeded toward the Minster of Magic’s office. 

He knocked on the door that displayed newly engraved, and not so subtle Dark Mark symbols. “Come in, come in, Severus.”

“How do you do, Minister?” Severus said. He studied Pius Thicknesse as entered the room and shook his hand. The man had a natural shiftiness about him, but Severus couldn’t help feel but pity. His eyes were glassy and semi focused, he was merely a puppet. Severus took a seat.

“Very well, very well. Lots of changes, you know,” the Minister said.

Severus nodded. “You wanted to see me?”

“Indeed. How are your summer holiday treating you?”

“Well enough,” Severus said. If you didn’t count the ongoing murders, torture of muggles, and being labelled as a murderer. 

“Good to hear. Have you been staying at Hogwarts then?”

“No, I’ve been at my family home. I was not sure I would be welcomed back to Hogwarts considering the circumstances.” 

“Nonsense Severus. We must have you there. It is the will of the Ministry.” 

“If it pleases the Ministry, I should be happy to return to my previous role.”

“No, no. Not your old role. Would you consider the post of Headmaster?”

Severus stared at the Minister, but was careful not to react. It was, after all, the Dark Lord toying with him.

“You shall oversee the young minds moulded toward our new world. Make sure they’re taught right. Will you accept the position?”

He knew he had no choice. At least this was a good thing, he would be in control. “It would be an honour. I thank you, Minister.”

“Very good, very good. You start immediately.” The Minister stood up and Snape followed suit. Severus signed a contract and shook Thicknesse’s hand.

As he left the Ministry he hardly noticed the whispers and fearful stares that followed his every step. A new sense of achievement washed over him. At least at Hogwarts he had a chance to protect the students. Though the teachers wouldn't be easy to deal with. 

Still. It was an excellent position to be in and Spinner’s End was getting rather dull, anyway. He missed his rooms at Hogwarts, and his private potions lab and office. It was more home to him than Spinner’s End ever was. Dealing with McGonagall would be something to look forward to. He wondered just how long would it be before she worked out the truth.

It was a good day. All he had left to do was get the Horcrux to Hermione and away from him. He wondered if she appreciated his gift earlier in the day? Setting the deranged house-elf up to stumble across Mundungus after Severus was done with him had been all too easy. At least this way Potter wouldn’t expect anything. 

One Horcrux down, three more to find, but still no way to destroy them. At least they had made a start. 

* * *

The front door to Grimmauld Place slammed shut as Lupin left in a rage. Harry sat on the floor rubbing his head where it had smashed into the kitchen cupboard. Hermione could hardly feel sorry for him. 

“You didn’t need to talk to Remus so cruelly,” she said.

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be abandoning Tonks and his baby like that. It isn’t right,” Harry replied.

She could see Harry was nearing his snapping point, and poor Remus got the brunt of it. They had spent the morning coming up with a ridiculous plan involving polyjuice potion to try get into the Ministry tomorrow. Everything about the plan was reckless. Far too much was left down to chance, and she didn’t like their odds of success. Remus had turned up at a bad time. 

On top of the waste-of-time-planning, Hermione was now stressing about how she was going to stop Harry and Ron from going on their quest the next day, and allow Snape more time to find Umbridge. She didn’t want to hurt them, but had subtly been browsing _Moste Potente Potions_ for a poison that might take them out of action for a day or two. Maybe a bout of food poisoning or a simulation of a nasty bug? 

She was about to go off at Harry about his horrible treatment of Remus, when her ring sent a pulse of warmth into her finger. She turned away from the boys so she could close her eyes to focus on the message. 

‘ _I’ve got something for you_.’ An image of the locket dangled in her mind.

Warmth radiated throughout her body. Snape had it! Her own excitement added to what she sensed through the ring. He was actually showing enthusiasm, though in real life she was sure it wouldn’t show. 

‘ _What now_?’ She asked

‘ _Come and get it. Spinners End_.’

Then the connection was gone. She stood there a moment, trying to wipe the grin off her face before she turned around again. She remembered she was supposed to be angry at Harry, but couldn’t quite bring herself back to her previous state. 

“You all right, Hermione?” Ron asked from behind her. 

They probably thought she was crying. She brought a mask of calm across her face and turned around.

“You just think about what you said, Harry. Remus didn’t deserve that. I’m sure he feels bad enough as it is about Tonks and the baby. He didn’t need you adding to his guilt.” She also happened to know that since Snape left the Order, Remus was in short supply of wolfsbane potion. He didn’t need more pressure on top of what he had. 

Harry didn’t reply. He just grumbled as he got up off the floor and pulled out a bag of frozen peas to hold on the back of his head. 

“I’m going out to get us some decent food,” Hermione said. She wasn’t going to waste any time in getting the Horcrux. They needed some good news. 

“But we need to plan for our trip to the Ministry tomorrow,” Ron said, looking bewildered. 

“Plan without me and fill me in when I get back.”

She didn’t give them a chance to argue as she was already out the kitchen door. She picked up her bag off her sleeping bag, went downstairs and Disapparated from the front step. She took a moment to steady herself as she landed at Spinner’s End. 

It was daytime and overcast. What she hadn’t been able to see last time in the dark were the rows of grey town houses, each as gloomy as the next. A sudden nervousness overcame her. But she straightened up and forced herself to knock on the door. 

It swung open, and she stepped inside. 

Snape sitting in the armchair by the fire. He looked up from his book. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger.”

“Hello Severus,” she said. She walked over and sat on the sofa across from him. “So how did you manage to get it?”

“By being my charming self, of course.” His eyes locked onto hers.

Hermione stared at him, not sure how to respond.

“I simply asked for it.” He smiled smugly. “I am well aware I am not known for being charming, and you are too polite to say so.” 

She shuffled in her chair and took her bag off her wrist and placed it beside her. He was in a strangely good mood again. 

“You are right in thinking this.” He paused to close his book. “It was, in fact, good old fashioned blackmail that did the trick.”

Hermione noticed the locket sitting on the side table next to Snape. A chill ran through her and she looked back to him. “I’m surprised that actually worked on her.” 

“If you know someone’s weakness, manipulation can be a far greater tool than torture.”

“I’d rather not be in such situations at all,” she said. A sense of unease came over her, she suspected the locket was the cause. 

“I’m afraid they are hard to avoid in these times. Just be prepared. Now tell me, do you have any idea how to destroy this?” He nodded toward the locket.

“Not exactly, no,” she said honestly.

“Neither do I.” His eyes flicked to the locket again. He must be feeling something off about it too. “I understand the book was destroyed with a basilisk fang?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I don’t have any on me right now. And we have no idea what Dumbledore did to that ring.”

“Whatever he did, I don’t recommend it. We should rule out that option.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, scanning her brain for ideas. “We need something to destroy it beyond magical repair. Something that can destroy the soul as well as the body, so to speak.”

Snape was lost in thought for a second. “Apologies, I didn’t offer you any refreshments. Dobby!” he called out. 

A loud crack sounded and the familiar house-elf stood in front of Snape eagerly waiting instructions. 

“Please prepare refreshments for myself and Miss Granger.” He stood up and placed the book back on the shelf.

“Yes, yes right away Headmaster! Good afternoon Miss-friend-of-the-great-Harry-Potter, I am happy to be seeing you Miss!” 

“Hello Dobby, lovely to see you to.” She couldn’t help but smile. 

He let out a high-pitched squeal of delight and disappeared with another crack, leaving Hermione wondering what exactly was going on. “Headmaster?” she asked with a sly smile. 

“Yes. Newly appointed by the Minister of Magic himself.”

“You mean Vold—” Snape was suddenly in front of her, his hand pressed over her mouth. She froze as her heartbeat sounded in her ears. 

“Do not say his name!” he said forcefully. Her head strained into back of the sofa. She felt her breath on the palm of his hand, his fingers warm against her cheek. A second later his hand was gone, and he stepped back. “Apologies.” He turned away from her. 

“What the hell was that?” She rubbed her cheek and moved her jaw around. 

“There is a taboo on the name.” He sat back down. 

“What does that mean?” she asked. Once again she hadn’t reacted in time. If he was any other Death Eater, she would be done for. She hoped he wouldn’t feel the need to point it out. She was well aware of her shortfalls.

“It means if you say the name, he will find for you.”

“Oh.” Perhaps something she could have been told earlier? She wasn’t going to argue. Remus had filled them in on the new muggle-born registration laws and she was well aware of what it would mean if she got caught. 

Dobby appeared once more with tea and biscuits. He fussed around for a short while and once Hermione had ensured him that Harry Potter was alive and well, he then beamed at her, then disappeared. They sat in silence. Hermione thinking over ways to destroy the Horcrux. Snape, brooding in his chair, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was thinking about. 

Eventually she knew she had to leave, and that meant taking the Horcrux. She wiped her hands on her jeans, her fingers chilled at the thought of touching it.

“Do you think it’s safe to handle?”

“I think it would be wise not to, if it’s anything like the ring it could be cursed. Umbridge seemed fine, but how would you know with her?” 

Hermione smiled at Severus’s obvious disdain for the woman, something she wholeheartedly shared. He _accioed_ something from another room, and it shot into his hand with a precision catch. “Keep it in this pouch. The leather in imbued with protective charms.”

She moved from her seat to take a closer look. Half expecting it to jump up and curse her, but it sat there. Inanimate. Like a dark, hibernating creature. Snape took the locket in a pair of forceps and slipped it into the small brown bag. 

“I’d avoid using any magic on it to be safe,” he said as he dropped the pouch into her hand, which lowered with the weight of it. “Potter should be the one to destroy it. Make him feel like he has some control in this pseudo-quest Dumbledore sent him on.”

“How am I supposed to explain getting this?” She looked up at him. Scared to move her hand, she felt slightly nauseous at the thought of holding part of Voldemort’s soul in her palm. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He appeared to be studying her to see how she would handle the situation. 

She rolled her shoulders back and curled her fingers around the small bag. She wouldn’t let him see she was scared, but she did need advice. “They barely trust me now. I can see the doubt in their eyes and the sideways looks they give in other. They already think I knew about the attack.”

“Trouble in paradise already?” He made no offer of advice or sympathy. 

She let out a huff and did her best not to act like a child. He was trying to wind her up. “I better get back. Thank for you for the tea and for tracking down the Horcrux. Merlin knows what would have happened if we went through with Harry’s plan, I’m not even going to tell you what it involved.”

“Please don’t. Contact me when you make any advancements and I shall do the same. I will return to the school tomorrow. You may utilise this house as you require, no need to knock.”

“Thank you. Severus. For everything so far.” She carefully placed the Horcrux pouch into a secure corner of her bag.

“You are welcome. Hermione.” He showed her to the door and paused for a moment. “Be careful,” he said. 

She thanked him and they said good bye. She shut it gently behind her and stood on the porch until the butterflies in her stomach had settled a little. He had called her Hermione. Perhaps she was finally starting to earn his respect, though she didn’t see how that was possible yet. 

She momentarily forgot about the Horcrux in her bag. Things were actually going as planned! She would find a way to tell Harry and Ron about the Horcrux in the right moment, until then she would celebrate their small win over the Dark Lord. 

She did a quick swirl on the porch to get out her excitement before she Disapparated back and had to act normal again. She stopped halfway through her second spin and whirled away into a perfectly executed Disapparition. 


	8. A Camping We Will Go

Hermione felt a lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks. They had a Horcrux. They had hope. 

The Disapparition from Spinner’s end may have been perfect, but the landing was not. Her foot touched down on the top step of Grimmauld place, but her body continued to spin. She lost her balance as her grounded foot slipped out— the other foot sought to find stable ground but found nothing but empty air. 

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. Time froze, and she knew she screwed up. It was just enough time to realise she was about to fall, and know there was nothing she could do to stop herself. 

She scrambled to clutch hold of a railing, but it was too far. Both feet flew up as she missed the top step and plunged to the ones below. Her shoulder and hip crashed hard into the concrete. She tumbled down several more steps before her limbs caught up with her brain. Move! She told herself. She scrambled on hands and knees to get her bearings and clawed her way up the steps, knowing she had to make it to the top within seconds.

She was too slow. A claw-like grip captured her ankle and dragged her down, her stomach scraped along the rough steps jolting her with every tug. By some miracle, she still had her wand in hand. She aimlessly shot back stunning curses and kicked her leg wildly, trying to twist herself around. 

“Let go of me!” she screamed. Her foot connected with something solid and the hand on her ankle slipped. She raised a _Protego_ shield around her as she twisted over and pushed off the step with one foot. She made it up two steps before something got hold of her calf. She felt curses bouncing off her shield, but the hand remained wrapped firmly around her leg. She caught hold of the railing with one hand and tried to fire curses behind her while holding on. It was hopeless. One by one, her fingers began slipping away from the post, now slick with sweat. 

Green fireballs shot overhead and the hands on her leg were gone. 

“Get up Hermione,” Ron yelled.

She stumbled up the stairs, not stopping to look behind. Ron grabbed her hand and dragged her up against the door. Harry was firing off curse after curse down the stairs. The two Death Eaters were sprinting back toward the park across the road, firing curses back randomly behind them, and smashing all the bins in the front gardens up the road. 

“That’s enough, Harry, we need to get inside,” Ron said.

He helped Hermione up. Harry reluctantly lowered his wand and heaved Hermione inside. They crumbled in a heap in the front hall. Mrs Black was shrieking at the top of her lungs from her frame on the wall.

“Are you all right, Hermione?” Ron asked.

She nodded as she caught her breath and did a scan of the damage. Her hands were scraped up, as was her stomach. She knew she had landed on her hip hard, but for now it just felt numb. She was sure to discover a myriad of bruises later, but in the meantime they needed to get out of there.

Ron looked at her with concern, and Harry looked mad. “They got away,” Harry said. He crouched down by Hermione. “How did they see you?”

“I slipped when I Apparated to the top step. I’m sorry,” she said. Her heart felt like it was shrinking in her chest. “We need to get out of here now,” she said, looking at Ron and Harry. 

“She right. They can get in here now,” Harry said. “Can you stand up Hermione?”

“Yes, we need to hurry. Get anything you don’t want to leave behind, we can’t come back. I’ll wait here.” She already had her bag, she didn’t want to slow them down by trying to find all her stuff.

Ron helped her stand. Her hip screamed in agony as it straightened out, and as she moved her weight to her other foot it sent fiery pain through the joint. She stifled a whimper and shooed the boys off. She hobbled a few steps toward the empty frame that Sirius’s Great Grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, occasionally occupied. She _accioed_ the painting to her and tucked it into the beaded back that had somehow managed to remain attached to her wrist. He might be useful later.

Every second was a second closer to Death Eaters busting down their door. It wouldn’t take long for them to call for backup. At least the three of them had a done a job in showing they wouldn’t be easy to take down. “Hurry up. And get my sleeping bag, please!” she called up the stairs.

Harry and Ron thundered down the steps seconds later. “Got it,” said Ron with coats, sleeping bags and backpacks piled on his back and shoulders, same as Harry.

Harry opened the door and Ron put his arm around Hermione and helped her out. Across the road, an army of cloaked figures were charging toward their front gate. The Death Eater in the lead was already at the stairs, firing curses wildly in front of them. 

Hermione shielded all three of them and felt both Ron and Harry latch onto her arms. She used every inch of strength she had left and Disapparated all three of them away. It was agony. The pull at her belly button yanked harder than usual. Her focus wavered. She pushed the destination to the front of her mind. Destination, Determination and Deliberation she repeated to herself. She felt the world spin around her and then suddenly, solid ground. 

She let her body relax into the grass in relief. She didn’t care where they were as long as it was away from those Death Eaters. Her moment of rest was short lived. A heart wrenching wail ripped through the air. Ron was on the ground, quivering and clutching his arm—a pool of blood spread like red ink all around him.

“No. No. No! Ron! Ron. Can you hear me?” she said as she dragged herself across the ground. His arm was hanging lifelessly from his side, severed cleanly from the shoulder socket, barely attached, and welling with blood. “Harry help!” she screamed.

Harry stood there starring. “I can’t just stick his arm back on Hermione! What should we do!” 

“Think Hermione. Think,” she said out loud to herself. She listened to herself and scrambled in her bag and pulled out Severus’s perfume. She sprayed in towards her face with eyes squeezed shut and took a deep, panicked breath. The world became clear instantly. She thought back to the healing lessons in the dungeons with Snape and the potions she had at hand. 

“Harry, we need to stop the bleeding.” She _accioed_ her collection of potions from deep in the bag and then anything she might need. She did a quick _Tergio_ charm around the wound so she could at least see what to do. 

“I’m so sorry, Ron, this is going to hurt.” She sprinkled a coagulant powder into the wound and then once it was working, flushed it with Snape’s wound-cleaning potion, then repeated the process again. Ron screamed bloody murder, and she was forced to cast a _Muffliato_ charm over them. She wished she had time to put up protective wards, but it would have to wait.

After the second lot of wound cleaning potion, Ron passed out. At least it was quieter now. She told Harry to hold Ron’s arm in place as she cast a spell from the inside of the wound, starting at the centre and working out. The spell was a lot like knitting, but on a cellular level. She concentrated and slowly poured her magic into the wound, working her way around in a spiralling circle. Feeling with her magic. Her eyes closed as she went. 

When she opened her eyes, it was dark. She had no idea how much time had passed, but the last piece of flesh knitted together and she sat back. The world spun around her as she felt herself toppling to the side. Harry caught her and helped her sit up, keeping one arm stabilising her back. She was thankful it had been such a clean cut or she never would have been able to do it.

“That was amazing Hermione. How did you learn how to do that?”

“Do you have water?” she asked, her mouth was tacky as she tried to speak. “I was doing private lessons at the start of the year, remember?”

Harry handed her the water bottle he accioed out of her bag. “I didn’t know that’s what you were doing.”

“That, among other things.” She looked over at Ron. “We need to give Ron the Blood-Replenishing Potion as soon as possible. We also need to set up camp, set wards and do a perimeter check.”

“You know you sound a lot like an army General sometimes?” Harry said. “Where are we anyway?”

“I was aiming for the forest where the Quidditch World Cup was. I’m not sure exactly where that is, maybe that’s why I splinched Ron,” she said with a noticeable quiver in her voice. She ordered herself not to cry, she was tougher than that. At least in the fading light Harry couldn’t see her face. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Hermione, you saved us.”

“And I was the reason we had to leave,” she said sharply.

“Stop blaming yourself. We knew it wasn’t going to be safe there for long. But I didn’t exactly have time to grab camping supplies or anything useful. Ron got the sleeping bags and the books that were on the table, but that’s about it. It’s starting to get dark,” he said nervously.

“I can fix that.” Without getting up, she summoned the tent from her bag and tossed it onto the grass. 

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” Harry said with a wide smile spread across his face. 

She instructed Harry how to set up the tent as she rested against a rock. She was nearly completely drained of magic, and her body hurt everywhere. Harry did a good enough job setting up the tent. He then helped Hermione up and hobbled her around the edge of their campsite in the grassy clearing as she used the last of her magic to set up a complex array of protective wards and anti-muggle charms from Severus’s list. 

Harry helped her into a bunk inside the tent and then hovered the still unconscious Ron onto the bunk opposite. Hermione felt like she could sleep for days. But first she waited for Ron to wake up and made sure he had a dose of Blood Replenishing Potion before she allowed herself to finally fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

* * *

The next day Hermione woke up in a world of pain. Her head was the worst. The thin steam of light entering the gap in the tent seared her eyeballs and made her want to cast the world into eternal darkness. She groaned and tried to roll over to find a way out of the bunk gracefully. Her hip had gone stiff in the night and she felt scrapes and bruises all over. She found her arm didn’t want to lift in her shoulder socket and hurt if she moved it even the slightest. 

Harry was suddenly at her side, helping her up. Just sitting felt like a big achievement. 

“Here I found this in your potion collection,” he handed her a small vial. She forced her eyes to focus. It was a strong pain relieving potion, another one of Snape’s. At this point she didn’t care what it was, she would have accepted anything that had pain relief on the label if it was on offer. 

“Hows Ron?” she asked after she downed the vial.

“He’s good, I gave him another two doses of the Blood Replenisher like you said. His colour’s starting to come back now.”

Hermione took Harry’s hand and squeezed it. “I was so scared, Harry.” 

“Same here. You did everything right Hermione, he’s lucky it was you there.” Harry turned over her palm and frowned. “Your all scraped up.”

“I didn’t have enough energy to do anything last night.”

“You should have told me! I was so worried about Ron, I didn’t think to check. Tell me what to do and I’ll fix you up.”

She smiled at Harry as the pain relief potion seeped through her blood, pulling away the pain to distant aches. She gave Harry simple instructions of how to clean up her injuries, then he found the bruise balm. She hobbled to the tent’s makeshift bathroom, and she coated herself in soothing balm, finding more bruises everywhere she looked. 

A few naps later and it was late afternoon. Both Ron and Hermione were awake at the same time and coherent for the first time all day. Ron had thanked her over and over for saving his life, but she still felt bad for splinching him in the first place. They sat on their bunks and Harry in the worn armchair as Hermione studied the tent. It was basic, but had everything they needed to survive— a small kitchen to the side and a large open room with bunks, a potbelly stove, an armchair and cushions. Plus a bathroom with a toilet and a bathtub which apparently only sometimes had hot water. She had no clue how the plumbing worked, and frankly she didn’t want to know. 

“I guess we’ll need to wait for both of you to heal before we go after Umbridge and the locket,” Harry said as he slumped deeper into the chair.

Hermione took in a gasp of breath, “Oh my gosh!” She had forgotten the Horcrux, a side effect of the overly effective pain potion she suspected.

“What!” Harry was up on his feet, wand at the ready.

“Sorry, Harry. Sit down. I forgot to tell you. I already have it.” She summoned her bag to her lap and pulled out the nondescript leather pouch. She held it in her hand and found herself not wanting to hand it over. 

“You can’t be serious?” Harry said, his jaw set, body leaning forward. Ron stared at her like a gold fish, open mouthed and clueless (though in his defence, he had had a lot of pain relief as well).

“Please don’t touch it.” She cautiously pulled at the drawstring and tipped the Horcrux onto the end of her bed where is fell into a neat pile. 

“How did you get it?” Harry said, his lips pursed thin. He studied the locket. 

“The person Dumbledore ordered to help us. They got it for us, they had access to the Ministry and it was safer for them to get in and out undetected. It was too dangerous for us, Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But we have it now. All we have to do it find a way to destroy it.”

She could feel the anger bubbling off Harry from several metres away. “You said you were going out to get food, Hermione.”

“Well, I was going to, but I didn’t get around to it, did I? This seemed a little more important, Harry.” She realised she hadn’t actually packed any food into her beaded bag, and everything they had was in the kitchen at Grimmauld place. And poor Kreacher. She hoped he could get away.

“You could have told us Hermione. Trusted us.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. But I promised Dumbledore I’d do this and keep it a secret. You have a direction connection to the Dark Lord in your mind, you can’t blame Dumbledore for wanting to keep him in the dark about certain things. You of all people should understand. But you were so wrapped up in your ridiculous Ministry infiltration plan you wouldn’t listen to me, anyway.”

“But I should be the one collecting the Horcruxes.”

“No, you should be the one destroying them. Think of me as the research and due diligence component of the mission. You can be the Horcrux destroying hero who battles the Dark Lord at the end. How does that sound?” she snapped at him, immediately regretting her tone.

“Don’t patronise me Hermione,” he said, glaring at her. Then paused a moment and looked back at her. “You just called him ‘the Dark Lord.’” 

“That’s right! I forgot to tell you. We can’t say his name, the V-name. There is a taboo on it. The snatchers can track the name if someone says it. Thats how they found us at Tottenham Court road.” 

“That explains a lot. But that’s not what I meant,” Harry said, eyeing her suspiciously. “You called him _The Dark Lord_ instead of _You-know-who_.”

Hermione’s cheeks grew warmer. “It’s faster to say it that way, that’s all.”

“That’s what Death Eaters call him Hermione.” Harry seemed to get angrier with everything she said. She would be better to shut up now, but her brain didn’t listen. 

“Who cares, Harry! Why are you being such a dick about this when we should be celebrating? Isn’t this what we wanted, to get a Horcrux?”

“Not if it means you’re working with a Death Eater! That’s what it is, isn’t it Hermione? Dumbledore set you up in some weird Death Eater arrangement. That’s why you refuse to tell us anything.”

“You’re wrong, Harry!” Despite her body protesting, she stood up and pointed her wand at Harry’s chest. “Your wrong, he isn’t a Death Eater! He’s different from them.”

She watched as Harry’s face changed from anger to disgust. “So it’s true,” he said. Not reacting to the wand at his chest.

“No,” she shook her head, her mind fogging from the pain relief and lack of sleep. “That’s not how it is.”

“Then tell us Hermione, how is it?” Ron added in from his position lying in his bunk. His lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I can’t explain it,” she said. Defeated. She didn’t have the energy for this, and she knew she could never explain properly, nor win this battle against Harry.

“Then how can we trust you Hermione? How do we know he isn’t tracking us and passing on information to You-know-who?”

“I guess you can’t then, can you?” She twisted around and heaved herself onto the bunk, trying not to show how much pain she was in. She floated the Horcrux back into the pouch and placed it in her bag and under her pillow. She then awkwardly shuffled into her sleeping bag, did the hood up and faced the canvas wall. 

She didn’t care that it was early, she was going to sleep and not talking to anyone for the rest of the night. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the sleeping bag, and she wished she thought to bring a pillow. 

She could hear Ron and Harry whispering angrily to each other. No doubt discussing her betrayal. Ungrateful bastards. She lay there willing sleep to come. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. She had had enough of this day and everyone in it. She wordlessly summoned a vial of Dreamless sleep from her bag and took a larger-than recommended dose. At least she was guaranteed one good sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving comments! It makes me so happy to see there are people out there reading this. Your feedback is so great and makes me want to keep posting more! Thanks xo


	9. Hogwarts

Snape strode across the school grounds as fast as his billowing robes would allow. His detector alarms were going off like fireworks in his pocket. Someone was breaking into his office and he planned on catching them red-handed. He stormed through the hallways yelling for everyone to move. Children jumped out of his path in all directions. He rounded the corner and flew up the spiral staircase behind the statue as fast as he could. 

He entered the room with as much presence and fear as he could muster. Black mist swirled behind him, and the room dimmed to allow for long ominous shadows from the old gas lamps. He did enjoy theatrics at times. His detector charm indicated three individuals present. They had not yet fired upon him so he assumed them to be neither Order, nor Death Eater. Most likely students. 

He used a simple infra-red sight modification spell. It lasted only two seconds, but in that time he saw exactly where they were. In rapid succession, he fired off three stunning spells. The flashes of blue light ceased, and he heard three thuds as bodies hit the ground. He raised the lights back to normal and checked there the damage to the office.

The glass case that held the sword of Gryffindor was smashed. Below this lay the unconscious body of a young man and last person he expected to find. Neville Longbottom. The boy lay face-down among the shards of shattered glass. His hand wrapped tightly around the sword. 

“Good try, lad,” Severus said as he picked up the sword and examined it. The goblin he asked to create a replica had done a remarkable job, but this one was the real thing. He placed it back in its case and drew his wand across the glass in one elegant sweep, restoring it to its original form. 

He wandered behind the desk to find the companions of Longbottom. He identified them and the Weasley girl and the Lovegood girl. Idiots. There was no way he could avoid punishing them. They were all gossipy Gryffindors, so telling them to keep their mouths shut was not an option. He checked they were all still alive, then sat in the chair to think. These were also Hermione’s friends, and he needed her to remain on his side—he couldn’t do anything too drastic.

He revived Lovegood first. She sat up and blinked, not at all fazed to be waking up on the floor of the Headmasters office. “Hello Sir. Lovely night for a stroll, wasn’t it?” 

“Indeed it was, Miss Lovegood. Until I was notified my office was being tampered with. Do you care to explain?”

She remained cross legged on the carpet. “We were trying to get the sword of Gryffindor.”

“That much I gathered.”

“It’s quite lovely. And it should be with the Gryffindors. Don’t you think?” She tilted her head back and gazed at the stars circling in the ceiling above. 

It was useless asking her. He woke Longbottom next. He stumbled up, confused and anxious. As soon as he saw Snape, he froze. Snape gave one of his tried and true condescending glares. The poor boy didn’t have a chance, he was terrified. “Sit down,” Snape ordered.

Longbottom looked to the sword and groaned, then fell into the chair. Lovegood waved at him and went back to studying the ceiling. She was certainly an odd girl.

“Why did I find you in my office with the sword of Gryffindor in your hand?” 

Longbottom’s eyes widened, but for once in his life he managed to speak coherently. “We needed it, Sir.” 

“For what purpose?” 

Longbottom’s lip trembled. “I can’t say.”

“Very well.”

Longbottom looked on in horror as Severus stood over Weasley’s seemingly lifeless body.

“What did you do to her!” Longbottom cried. 

“It’s okay, Neville, she’s just sleeping. The Headmaster won’t hurt her,” Lovegood said.

Longbottom didn’t look convinced. But the Lovegood girl appeared to have good intuition. Severus next revived Weasley, who reacted like a fighting cat. She jumped up as soon as she saw Severus and backed against the bookcase with her wand tightly clasped. At least this is one with instincts. 

“Please take a seat, Miss Weasley, I won’t be hexing you today.” All three sat in front of his desk. “From what I gather, you attempted to break into my office to steal the sword to give to your beloved chosen one _Potter_.”

Weasley snapped her head to the side and glared at Longbottom.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Longbottom said.

Weasley faced back to Severus with a sparkle of resistance in her eyes. “This is Dumbledore’s office, not yours. He would still be here if you didn’t kill him,” she said. 

“Quite right,” Snape said calmly. “But we cannot change the past now, can we?”

A heavy silence weighed upon the room. Longbottom sat there as if he expected Snape to use a killing curse on him right then. Weasley and Lovegood didn’t appear to have any fear. Weasley glared at him as if she might hex him with her eyes. Lovegood looked at him with a soft, searching gaze. It was rather unsettling. He looked away and embraced the silence.

When he spoke again, Longbottom jumped. “You will undertake your punishment for this attempted theft in the Forbidden Forest under the supervision and discretion of the Grounds keeper, Hagrid. One month detention. Is that clear?”

All three nodded, clearly pleased with his choice of punishment. He just hoped word didn’t get out to the Carrows. It was hardly a punishment to fit the crime, and no doubt if the Dark Lord found out how soft he had gone on them he would have them all _crucioed_. 

But he knew they were onto something with the sword, and it put him in a good mood. He needed to find out more. He dismissed the thieves from his office, and as they stood up, Lovegood actually had the nerve to lean over his desk and twist the ring on his finger. 

“I have a friend with a ring similar to this, it’s a funny small world, isn’t it?” she said. 

“There are many such rings out there,” he replied, almost caught off-guard. He kept his face blank as she studied him. 

She tilted her head and smiled. “It suits you, Sir.” 

Weasley was staring at the ring. She leaned forward ever so slightly. 

“Thank you for your observations, Miss Lovegood. Please vacate my office now and do not attempt to steal anything on your way out.” 

Perhaps he was losing his touch. They did not seem afraid of him at all. Miss Weasley gave him a quizzical glance as she left and narrowed her eyes. These two were clever. They all left the office, and he sat down, hoping this didn’t get back to the Carrows or the Dark Lord.

* * *

Severus sat at the head of the Great Hall and tried to get through breakfast. He did his best to ignore students and teachers alike—it was not a secret that he loathed the practice of communal eating. But the Dark Lord insisted he maintain a presence of control and fear. So far that wasn’t going well.

Right from day one as Headmaster, the students and teachers had begun a subtle underlying rebellion. He had expected nothing less. In fact, he should have been disappointed if there was no resistance. 

As the silent battle waged against him, he made little attempt to stop it. A few public berating here and there for show, but mostly he let them proceed. It had led to good house unity. Not from his own house, of course. They were fully behind him. The Carrows had done too good a job in their recruitment of young Slytherins in that aspect. 

So there he sat, between McGonagall and Slughorn, trying to force down his toast and jam surrounded by hundreds of people who hated him. He was forced to stop mid mouthful as McGonagall leaned in to speak. Something she had taken to doing most mornings.

“I don’t know how can you sit there so smug and content, knowing what you have done. How can you live with yourself Severus?”

“Quite easily when I’m left to eat my breakfast in silence.” 

“At least tell my why? Give me a reason you did it?”

“Must we have the same conversation every day Minerva?”

“Yes. If you are too much of a coward to explain your hideous actions, we shall have this conversation every day until I have my answers.”

He placed down his toast and turned to McGonagall. “Albus Dumbledore was never a man to do anything without reason.” He kept his voice low but met her stare. “Without explanation or apparent logic, yes. But never without reason.” He drained the last of his tea, then turned back to her. “I too do not act without reason.”

He stood up and pushed his chair back with a loud screech. The room went silent, and all eyes turned to the front. Minerva stood up and grabbed his arm before he could turn. “You dare compare yourself to Albus Dumbledore!” Her eyes glowed like wild fire. 

“I dare,” he said slowly as he jerked his hand out of her grip.

He turned away, and as he did, her voice followed him, a faint whisper in his ear. “I once considered us friends Severus. I refuse to believe it has come to this.”

He sent a whisper back with a subtle flick of his wand. Only for her. “ _Then don’t_.” He was careful not to turn back. 

He strode out of the Great Hall and toward his rooms in the dungeons. He preferred them, it had been his home for years and he wasn’t inclined to move. The familiar paintings and tapestries passed by in a blur as he quickened his pace. He was being followed. Two more corners and he turned into an empty potions classroom. The footsteps were close behind.

He spun around. “Why are you following me? And without so much as a hint of stealth. I might as well have been followed by bloody elephants!”

He slammed the door as Alecto Carrow sauntered up the isle, closely followed by her brother Amycus. Snape leaned against the large desk at the front of the classroom. Arms folded across his chest, awaiting whatever rubbish they had to spout out this time.

“The Dark Lord is not pleased with you,” Alecto said, the glee of giving this news plastered all over her fat face. 

“And why should he not come directly to me with this,” Snape demanded.

Alecto looked to Amycus, who was shaking his head and frowning. “Well, it wasn’t a message, as such. More of a conversation we overheard.”

“You are telling me you were eavesdropping on the Dark Lord.”

“Oi, don’t you go mixing up her words,” Amycus butted in. “He asked us about what was happening at the school, and we told him straight. We told him how you let them kids off so easy for stealing that sword. And he liked our ideas about teaching defence the proper way.” He raised his chin and attempted to look down at Snape.

Snape sent him a cold glare and stood to his full height. “The Dark Lord was already aware of that incident. And by teaching defence, I assume you are referring to the torture of small children?”

“They have to learn somehow,” Amycus said with a shrug and a took a step back.

“Yes. You are quite right. I thank you for your concern and insight into the Dark Lord’s feelings toward me. You may leave now.” He raised his wand for no particular reason. They scrambled to turn around and exit the room like pathetic rats. 

He sat back against the desk and rubbed his temple. This was bad news. If the Dark Lord truly had found this out, the next Death Eater meeting would not be pleasant. A cruel dose of reality hit him in that moment. He shouldn’t have spent so much time with Hermione. His memories and thoughts were full of her, there was no denying it. And it would take a great deal of Occlumency skill to disguise it.

He had been careless. Fortunately he hadn’t seen her in weeks, nor communicated with her through the ring. The next official Death Eater summons was not for a week. In that time he would meditate every spare minute he had, and sort new false memories to the forefront of his mind and block out the rest with alcohol. An amateur oversight on his part, but he could fool the Dark Lord again, just as he had done so many times before. 


	10. Hermione's Birthday

Hermione crunched through the undergrowth of yet another remote forest. Leaves underfoot were crisp and brown, and squirrels raced across branches overhead as autumn set in. Hermione hadn’t let herself cried in weeks, despite the fact that she was miserable. It was a living nightmare in an unrelenting cycle of bickering and complaining. To make matters worse, she was stuck with two ungrateful idiots who had forgotten her birthday. 

She was sick and tired of eating mushrooms, and fish, and whatever they found in the rubbish on isolated farms. All she wanted was to go into a shop and buy some bacon and eggs and sausages, and have a decent meal. Was that too much to ask? She was also sick of pretending to be strong, and sick of being the organised one all the time. 

She squeezed her eyes and let the silent tears escape. Just enough to sting. She then pressed her fingers into her eyes and told herself to stop. She stomped through the crunchy leaves and came across a small creek. She splashed icy water over her face and let the glacial shock numb her skin and wake her up.

She looked down at her measly foraging efforts: more mushrooms, watercress, some dandelions, and wild thyme. Nothing filling, but enough to keep them alive if they also caught a fish. But everything was dull without salt. If she ever went on the run again, she would be sure to bring salt. And bacon and eggs. And cakes. And chocolate. Her stomached rumbled at the thought. But it was her birthday, and one could always dream. 

She followed her markers back to the camp, and Harry extended a hand to pull her back through the wards once she arrived. Harry then went down to the nearby river to try catch a fish, while Hermione set up a campfire outside and prepared the mushrooms to go in the billycan with some wild thyme. Ron sat on a stool by the fire, throwing rocks at a nearby tree.

“It’s been weeks since we left. I thought we’d have achieved something by now,” Ron said.

“We have Ron. We have a Horcrux and are doing our best to find a way to destroy it and find the others. Plus your arm needed time to heal, it’s only just getting better.”

He let out a loud sigh. “I’m sick of mushrooms and fish. Let just go into a village and buy some real food.”

“Do you have any muggle money, Ron? Because I’m all out. And last time we tried to go shopping there were Dementors all over the town, remember?”

“Whatever.”

“You know what, Ron? How about you cook dinner for once! I’ve had enough.” She threw down the spoon and left the mushrooms floating over the fire for him to deal with. 

She stormed inside and shot a barrier spell at the tent door so no one could get it. She lay down with her face in her sleeping bag and screamed. Her pent up anger ran out quickly and soon became a flood of unstoppable tears. She remained that way until she felt like a drooping flower with nothing left. She sat up, feeling a little better than before, and went to the bathroom to wash her face and tie up her hair. 

She suddenly noticed her ring was hot and wondered just how long it had been doing that. She focused on it and felt a rush of questions push through with a hint of concern attached. 

Oh dear. She felt her ears turning red. She must have touched the ring during her melt down. She splashed cold water on her face, then covered her eyes with her hands, wondering what to do. 

She had to answer him. She went and sat back down on the bed and stared at the flash of opalescent rainbows in the moonstone as it caught the light. She pressed her thumb to to the stone as her heart raced. ‘ _So sorry. A bad day here. No need to worry_ ’. She sent him an image in her mind of the sad looking mushroom meal she had been preparing. ‘ _Just wish I had some bacon and eggs_.’

That should do it. A light hearted message not at all related to Horcruxes that would hopefully put his mind at ease. 

The ring warmed again. ‘ _Meet me at Spinner’s End now_ ’. The message was laced with irritation and disapproval. 

Great. Just what she needed. Of all the days he could have picked, he was going to give her a hard time about their lack of progress on her birthday. She rolled onto her side and didn’t want to get off the bed, but knew she had to. 

She changed her clothes to the cleanest ones she had left, put on deodorant, straightened up her hair, and checked herself in the mirror. She was not fit to be seen in public. Her eyes were red, her hair was still a mess and her shirt was all crinkled. She did her best to fix her shirt with a steaming charm, but it caused her hair to frizz up even more. She gave up. She picked up her bag and threw open the tent door. 

“I’m going out to get food,” she said. 

Harry was preparing a fish and Ron was staring at the pot of burnt mushrooms. 

“I’m sorry Hermione, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” Ron said. Not looking sorry at all. 

“Yet somehow you always succeed in doing so, Ron.”

“Hermione, stay here, it’s too dangerous,” said Harry.

“No, it’s fine. Ron has made it clear that neither of us are up to his mother’s standing of cooking and her ability to make food appear from thin air. I’ll be back late, do not wait up.”

“Come on Hermione, don’t go! At least tell us where you’re going,” Harry called after her. 

She strode into the forest where they wouldn’t see her Disapparate. She heard Harry yelling at Ron as she left. “What the hell did you say to her, mate?”

She didn’t stick around to hear the answer. All she wanted was to get the day over with and forget it was ever her birthday. 

Her feet landed securely on the porch of the Spinner’s End house. It was drizzling, and the air smelled pleasantly of rain hitting dry roads. She missed the smells of urban life. She also missed living in a house. Her hand hesitated as she drew it up to the door handle. It felt strange to enter without knocking, but those were her instructions. 

The door creaked open and her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as she entered the dark room. Severus must not have left yet. She shivered a little from the chill in the air and took off her shoes as she flicked on the lights with her wand. Then spotting a well stacked woodpile, she levitated some logs into the fire and soon had it crackling away behind its iron grate. 

Unsure how long Severus would be, she went to the kitchen and boiled the kettle. She was surprised at the mix of muggle appliances around his kitchen. She always preferred a kettle to magically boiled water, something about the waiting and the sound the kettle made tea taste just right. It was the process. 

She took the tea into the living room and made herself comfortable in the armchair by the fire. She hoped Severus wouldn’t mind her sitting there. It was nice just to sit and not be in the tent for a change. 

Her thoughts turned to her family. She wondered how they were all doing. She imagined her parents sitting outside a restaurant near the beach, enjoying glasses of wine, not even knowing they had a daughter. She hoped Crookshanks was okay. Hopefully he was still with the Weasleys. She imagined him stalking gnomes through the garden and lying in various sunny spots around the house. A wash of guilt ran through her at the thought of abandoning him. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door shot open. She was instantly up and aiming her wand at the door. 

“Good to see you’ve made yourself at home,” Severus said with a friendly smirk.

“Good evening to you too, Severus,” she said, as she lowered her wand and made herself comfortable in the chair once more. She suddenly remembered the rings and felt her ears go red once more.

“I’m sorry about the ring this afternoon. I hadn’t meant to contact you,” she said. 

“I’m glad you did. I’ve got something for you.” he said, as he shed his robes and offered them to the stand. He turned around to face her, and she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of him. He was a mess. One eye was black, his eyebrow has a fresh slice through it, and his hand was bandaged and held at an odd angle. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of him accessing the damage. 

“Who did this to you? The Dark Lord, I suppose?” she said, as she moved in closer and stood on her tiptoes to get a proper look at his eye and eyebrow. It was several days old. But easy enough to fix. She didn’t think about how close she was until his warm breath brushed her cheek. His eyes fixed on her. A flush of heat spread through her chest. She lowered down and stepped back. “Why haven’t you healed this?” she asked.

He walked to the sofa and fell into it. “I was ordered not to.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Yes, and a very good example to others not to get out of line.”

“What did you do?”

“I matters not.” He leaned back in the sofa and shut his eyes. 

“I’ll get you tea,” she said, not knowing how else to help.

“How about something stronger?”

“What have you got?”

“Firewhiskey in the cupboard by the fridge.”

Firewhisky sounded like just what she needed. If he was having some, then so was she. It was her birthday after all, and she was going to bloody well celebrate it. Even if no one else was. She bit her lip and told herself to brighten up. No moping.

She found glasses and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky (one of in the cupboard), and brought them out to the living room. Severus had a large box sitting next to him that wasn’t there before. 

“What’s that?” she asked as she fed the glasses two generous pours of Firewhiskey. He obviously didn’t have any objections to her drinking, which was good, because she hadn’t planned on listening if he did. She handed one to Severus and clinked glasses.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, as they lowered their glasses.

“You know it’s my birthday?” She stumbled on the words. “I mean thank you, that is very kind.”

“And in answer to your question, this is your present. Sorry, it probably isn’t what you want. But should be useful nonetheless.”

She drank the shot all in one go, just to ease the shock. She coughed as the liquid burned its way down her throat and into her empty stomach. A glass of water appeared at her side and she drank it down.

She put the empty glass back down and moved to sit on the other side of the box on the sofa. “Is it really for me?” 

“Don’t get too excited. Just open it,” Severus said, as downed his drink and poured another two. 

Hermione cautiously lifted the flaps of the cardboard box and peering inside. At least it wouldn’t be some deadly creature, as she might expect from a gift from Hagrid. Perhaps deadly potions? She never imagined Severus buying gifts. She held her lit wand into the box and let out a squeal of delight.

It was filled with food! Cans of food, packages of food, bags of bread, cheese, biscuits, tea, chocolate, lollies, and right on top; a tray of eggs, a packet of bacon, and a package in butchers paper labelled sausages. She had never been so happy to receive a gift in her life.

All logic aside, she got and threw herself onto Severus in a hug. His arms wrapped around her for a brief second, then were gone. She remembered his injuries and quickly jumped up. “Sorry! I got carried away, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His face had a little more colour to it, but he didn’t look hurt. 

“I am quite well. I take it you like the present?” 

“I love it! How did you—it was the ring, wasn’t it?” The heat in her cheeks spread all the way to her neck. How much had he seen?

“Yes, the ring. But you should have told me you needed help, needed food. You can’t expect to fight and protect yourself if you’re half starved.”

She knew he was right. She sat down again, her mouth already watering at the thought of eating bacon. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising every time we talk.”

“Sorry—oops. I can’t help it.” She buried her face in her hands.

“Let’s eat. Then more Firewhisky and we can talk of our plans. Bacon and eggs?” he suggested.

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds wonderful.”

Hermione gathered up the ingredients and followed Severus to the kitchen. Of course, as a potions master he was also a proficient cook. She didn’t know why she expected anything less. She sat at the kitchen table out of his way as she watched him and sipped the Firewhisky she sneaked into the kitchen.

“Shouldn't you be at school?” she asked, as she watched him dig out frying pans and start cooking the sausages.

“I’m the Headmaster, I can go where I please. Did you not notice Dumbledore was away from the school most of last year?”

“Yes, and looked what happened to him and the school,” Hermione let out a snort and realised that perhaps she shouldn’t have said that out loud, her head was a little fuzzy already. 

She expected Snape to explode at her. Instead, he smiled. “A fine observation, Miss Granger. I expect the current Headmaster won’t last long.” 

Her hands shot to her mouth. “Don’t say that! And should we be at a point of joking about this?” she said, and couldn’t help but let a smile curl the corners of her lips. Perhaps she should ease up on the whiskey, she really shouldn’t be finding this funny.

“Yes, we should. We are the only ones who know the truth.” Severus said, all seriousness. “He kept all his plans to himself, didn’t tell Potter anything about this quest or what is to happen to him, didn’t tell anyone but you and I the plans for his death, thereby marking me as his murderer for all time. And he hasn’t left us a chance of defeating the Dark Lord. So yes, Hermione, we should be entitled to as many jokes as we like as his expense.”

A lightness rose in her chest. Everything he said was true and did make perfect sense. Why shouldn’t they enjoy their potentially last days being morbid and proper? It could also be the Firewhiskey talking. “Very well then.” She lifted her glass. “A toast to Dumbledore. May he remain cryptic and infuriating to all those he meets beyond the grave!”

“An impressive toast,” Severus said, as he expertly levitated everything out of the frying pans and onto the plates.

They sat down at the table and Hermione had never enjoyed a breakfast-for-dinner meal more in her whole life. The sausages were juicy, and the bacon perfectly crisp. She savoured the plain taste of toast and the perfectly fried eggs with golden yolks that burst and oozed out as she poked them with her fork. It had turned into a memorable birthday, after all.

Hermione was full for the first time in weeks. The Firewhisky left her with a happy buzz and a warm tingling throughout her body. She relaxed in the chair and found herself enjoying just sitting there and chatting. She had no wish to return to the tent anytime soon and decided to let Ron and Harry worry about her for a change.

They caught up on the past few weeks. Hermione told Severus about their plans of moving around as to not get caught, but she didn’t have any good news about Horcruxes. They discussed the possibility of Horcruxes being hidden in the school, but had little to go on. Severus had been watching the snake every time he was near the Dark Lord and was sure it was a Horcrux. They agreed it should be the one they left until last. 

Severus didn’t tell Hermione about anything to do with Death Eater meetings. Perhaps it was better she didn’t know. She asked him about Hogwarts instead. 

Severus took a large swig of firewhiskey. He had consumed far more than Hermione but didn’t have a hint of drunkenness about him. He turned to her with a scowl. “Your friends broke into my office to try claim the sword of Gryffindor,”

She choked on her drink and laughed. “They did? Who?”

“Lovegood, Longbottom and Weasley. It seemed they were trying to get the sword for Potter,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh dear. I hope you didn’t do anything too terrible to them,” she said as she swallowed, not sure if she actually wanted to know. Her palms grew sweaty just hearing about it. 

“I ordered them detention with Hagrid for one month,” he said.

“Oh. That’s very lenient of you.” 

“Indeed. A little too lenient on my part,” he said, then looked away.

‘Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Never mind.” He changed the subject quickly. “You will also be happy to know McGonagall and many of the students are rising against me. They’re doing a reasonable job of rebelling.”

Hermione smiled. It was nice to hear about their friends and all the antics they were getting up to. She imagined Harry would appreciate it. Hermione lazily looked at the wall clock and felt her blood pressure instantly rise. It was quarter past midnight! The boys would be extremely worried about her now. Perhaps she had left it a little too long. She stood up to move and dizziness overwhelmed her. 

“I think I’m too drunk to Disapparate,” she admitted.

“Yes, it would be safest not to,” Severus said without any objection. He shifted in his chair. Hermione could tell his arm was bothering him, but he didn’t mention it. 

“Can I sleep on the sofa?” she asked, knowing she didn’t have any other option but to stay. 

“There is a spare bedroom upstairs that you might find more comfortable,” Severus said, not meeting her eye. 

A bedroom sounded like heaven. After sleeping on a rickety bunk, even the sofa had sounded nice. This birthday felt like a real holiday. Her thoughts turned back to Ron and Harry. She looked around for her wand, which she found right in front of her. She twisted her neck to each side in a stretch before trying to focus her drunken brain. 

Her happy thought was easy, it was this very moment. She hadn’t been this happy in months.   
  
“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” she said, and a silvery otter shot out the end of her wand. She giggled as it bounced off the kitchen cupboard and did joyful flips through the air as if it were under water. 

“Well executed,” Severus said. “But I think it’s drunk.”

“Will it still find Harry?” She laughed as the otter wound around her in playful circles.

“If your intention is strong, it will find him.” Severus watched as it turned to him and started head butting him in the shoulder like a friendly cat. 

She told the otter to focus and carefully gave it the message- “ _I’m safe. No need to worry about me. Be back before lunch tomorrow. Byeeeee._ ” She ordered the otter to find Harry and was confident it would make it.

As Hermione went to get her beaded bag, a silver stag Patronus antlered its way into the tiny living room. It’s huge body took up half the room and stood with its rear end stuck in the sofa, causing her to break down laughing. She barely heard the message start- “ _We were worried Hermione. Sorry about whatever Ron said to you. I hope you really are okay. Come back safely_.”

Severus stood leaning in the doorway to the kitchen. “You can all conjure corporeal Patronuses?” 

Hermione found her bag. “Yes, most of us can now. It’s good to see Harry reply. He’s been having trouble with his recently.”

“It looked sufficient,” Snape said. “Your room is at the top of the stairs to the right, mine is opposite. If you require anything, just tell me. There is a bathroom upstairs and utility room downstairs should you need them.”

“Thank you, Severus. For letting me stay, and for the food, and for making my birthday worth celebrating.”

“You are most welcome. I will also retire now.”

“Do you need any help with anything?” She had helped Ron get dressed the past few weeks with his arm. She knew how hard it could be.

“I can manage on my own, but thank you for your concern. Good night.”

She said goodnight and found her room with a small, but cosy looking bed. She fell straight into it, thinking about how she could possibly have a real shower and do some washing before she left the next day. It turned out to be a great birthday after all.   
  
Severus seemed to have a new surprise up his sleeve every time she saw him. Her brain buzzed around as she tried to get to sleep, she couldn’t help but think how strange it would be waking up in his house the next morning, but she for some reason she found herself looking forward to it. 


	11. Voices in the Night

Hermione’s eyes blinked open, and for a second she had no idea where she was. Her hand fell to the beaded bag under the pillow and she relaxed back into the bed. Her head was pounding and her mouth was tacky and dry. Just looking at the busy floral wall paper hurt her eyes. She suspected Severus hadn’t been the one to decorate this house.

She stumbled out of bed and found the water she had left herself the night before. Thank Merlin drunk Hermione still planned ahead. She tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack to make sure she would not bump into Severus in the hallway. She could hear him clattering in the kitchen, so made her dash for the bathroom. She’d hate to bump into him in her in current state. Especially in her nightie, which was actually an over-sized Bulgarian Quidditch jersey. Viktor sent her a new one every year, and they were perfect for sleeping in. It also pissed Ron off when she wore it, making it was one of her favourites.

Once she was done in the bathroom, and feeling only slightly more alive than before, she opened the door and let out a squeal. Severus was standing there and looking just as shocked as she felt. She crossed her arms over her chest and ordered herself not to blush.   
  
The uncomfortable feeling soon dissipated and all her attention turned to Severus’s arm and the fact that he had a cast all the way past his elbow. The only reason she noticed now was that he was wearing muggle clothes—a well fitting black t-shirt and dark jeans. She forced herself to stop staring. He looked fit, and younger than the thirty-eight years old she had worked him out to be. She turned her attention back to his arm and hoped he didn’t sense any of that through the ring. 

“Your arm is broken?”

“Excellent observation skills,” he said sarcastically. 

“You should have told me it was that bad.”

“It is nothing to be concerned about, and I have been coping just fine, thank you. Fortunately, I have perfect health in my wand hand. And how are you feeling this morning?” His question was laced with amusement. He didn’t look hungover at all. 

“I feel quite terrible, thank you. I maybe have overdone it on the Firewhisky last night.” She admitted. “How are you not hungover?”

“Practice. And a secret potion,” he said, as he brushed past her and went back downstairs. 

She went back into her room and decided she should have a shower before facing Severus again.

After her shower, she trudged down the stairs and sunk into a seat at the kitchen table. She rested her forehead on her hands until the thumping in her head died down. A cup of coffee appeared in front of her as she looked up. Severus seated himself across from her and started eating a plate of bacon and eggs that looked amazing, but made Hermione both hungry and sick at the same time. 

He slid a glass vial across the table to her. The brown fizzing liquid inside did not look like it would make her feel any better. 

“Should I ask what’s in this?”

“Best not to. Just drink it.”

She didn’t care what was in it. The bubbles tickled her tongue and trailed all the way down her throat to her stomach. She blinked and sat upright as if her body had a small electric shock. “What just happened?”

“The potion worked,” he said, not looking up from his plate.

“I feel so much better!” 

“Don’t get too excited, it’s only temporary. Eat something while it’s working. There’s food on the stove, help yourself.”

She sprung off the chair, feeling like she had a perfect night’s sleep. Her stomached growled.

They ate in silence, and Hermione relished the feeling of not being hungover, even if it wouldn’t last. They finished and Hermione began cleaning up the kitchen with a mix of muggle methods and magic.

Severus had a cup of coffee at the table and was skimming through a paper. “So you support the Bulgarian team in Quidditch then?” he said offhandedly.

“No, I don’t support Quidditch at all, really.”

“Just a certain player then?”

Her ears grew hot. She remembered the large words printed on the back of the shirt—KRUM. She shrugged. “Viktor’s not so bad. He sends me a new jersey every year.”

“How thoughtful of him. And have you seen him recently? How is the famous Viktor doing?” Severus said, as his posture turned rigid. 

“He’s fine, I saw him at—” she realised he had caught her. 

“—the wedding.” Severus finished her sentence. 

“Yes. The wedding.” She turned back to the dishes. There was no point in denying it, he was too quick. “How did you—?”

She heard a rustle of paper turned to see Severus hold out the large photo page of the Daily Prophet. “Photos were leaked,” he said sharply.

She dried her hands and swallowed down the lump in her throat as she took the paper he was holding up. It was indeed photos of the wedding. She glanced over the familiar faces. There was a nice photo of the whole Weasley family, and one of Ron, Charlie, Ginny and Harry (disguised as cousin-whoever), and a nice one of Tonks and Lupin. 

She swallowed once more as she spotted the photo Severus had obviously seen, a candid shot of her and Viktor. Her eyes rested on the image, already feeling like it was taken years ago. She and Viktor were sitting on the ground with their backs against the stone wall. Both of them smiling, then Viktor turned to her. Their eyes met, and they cracked up laughing. It was a nice photo. But the caption was not — _With no sign of Harry Potter, young Hermione Granger takes up with former flame and Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum._

She suppressed a groan and turned back to Severus. She handed him the paper and tried to ignoring his penetrating stare. “I don’t need a lecture about what you told me to do and why I was there. I know it was all wrong, but they wouldn’t listen to me and I couldn’t very well leave them there alone, could I? They are so stubborn sometimes and it would have created such a fuss. And the wedding was stressful enough as it was. I didn’t know what to do. And by that point—” She waved a hand at the paper. “I thought it was so late that the attack wasn’t going to happen. That perhaps you just said told me all that stuff to get us to leave.” 

She threw down the tea-towel on the bench and slumped against a cupboard, out of breath from talking so fast. She turned to face Severus. “What would you have done if you were there?” 

His eyes turned dark. “I was there, Hermione.” Her name on his lips sent chills down her spine, and not in a good way. 

He held her eyes and continued. “I was the one setting fire to the house, I was the one terrorising wedding guests, I was the one who cut off the Weasley twins ear, and I was the one who sent curse after curse at those fleeing.” 

She stood paralysed, rooted to the spot on the kitchen tiles. He stood up and slammed the paper onto the table. “I was the one in the mask, playing my part,” he spat. 

The small kitchen suddenly felt oppressive. She would not be afraid. She would not allow him the control that came so naturally. She would not let him win.   
  
Her fingers curled around her wand and she crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands, then stood up straight. She swallowed hard. Time to call his bluff. “How many people died that night?” she asked. 

His face set like stone did not change. “Five. Two on site and three much later.”

“And how many did you kill?” 

His eyes drilled into her further. “I did not kill any.”

“And the Weasley twin. Did you mean to kill him?”

“He would be _dead_ if I wanted to kill him.” He spoke each syllable slowly. “What is your point?” He pressed a fist into the table.

“You’re trying to scare me. To make me think you’re a big bad Death Eater. But I know better.” She stepped toward him with her chin raised. “I’ve learnt from my mistakes. I understand that there are consequences, and I don’t plan on making the same mistakes twice. But I will not let you bully me like one of your students and make me feel like an idiot. I know what I’m doing!”   
  
She considered poking him in the chest to get her point across, but decided that might be a step too far. She kept her arms folded and tried to look confident. 

Without warning, he grabbed her and flipped her around. She took in a sharp breath as her back slammed hard against his chest. His broken arm trapped her in place across her collarbone. The tip of his wand pressed painfully into her neck.   
  
“This is not a game, Hermione,” he whispered into her ear. His cheek pressed against her hair. She could feel his chest moving against her. 

“I’m well aware of that, Severus.” She tilted her head down to direct his gaze to the wand she held backward and pressed hard into ribs. He said nothing, but let out a hiss of air. She knew she had him. For a long second they stayed that way. Tension in the room rising. Her breath came fast and shallow against his arm. 

One of them had to give, and it wouldn’t be her. “You should give up now. I know you won’t hurt me,” she said. She felt his wand shudder against her neck, as if he wanted to hurt her but was holding back. She was betting on the fact that he wouldn’t.

Then it was gone. She heard a clatter of his wand hitting the table. 

“Blast you woman!” His grip loosed, and she slipped out of his arms easily and stepped back.

“I know it’s not a game, Severus. But I need you to trust me.” She backed up and sat down in the chair, holding her shaking hands under the table out of sight. 

“I find it challenging to trust anyone. As you might understand,” he said. 

“We need to be on the same team,” she said as she twisted the colourful band around her wrist. 

“And what team are we on may I ask?” 

She could see he was calming down. The colours, she thought to herself. The team between light and dark. “Team Hermione and Severus? Team Horcrux detectives? Or team Moonstone Rings if you prefer?” she said, trying to lighten the mood. 

There it was. The hint of a smile which was really just a twitch in one side of his mouth, but still. She called that a victory. 

“More like team _Fools-Following-Dumbledore_ ,” he said without a hint of humour. He sat back in his chair, as straight faced as before. Hermione couldn’t help but smile. 

“That’s the spirit,” she said sarcastically. Then turned to face him properly. “I am sorry about the wedding. I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. Hating that she let him down. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she got back up to finish the kitchen. She picked up the tea towel and turned back. “Just don’t attack me again. I really don’t appreciate it.”

“Fine. You’ve proven your point. I apologise for my inappropriate reaction.” he said and looked down at the floor. “You did well to defend yourself.”

She looked at him and smiled but said nothing. She didn’t want to push it further. He knew she had him that time. Or more accurately, it was a deadlock. It was the closest she had ever come to beating him. But neither mentioned it again.

Once the kitchen was clean, Hermione sent a reluctant, and this time less drunk otter Patronus to Harry saying she would return shortly. She then did a load of washing and with a few attempts, she shrunk down the large box of food and managed to stuff it into her beaded bag.

Severus was getting ready to go back to school. His casual muggle clothes were once more replaced with his signature black robes. And with this change, the ease they had developed over the past day wore off. This was replaced with politeness and what Hermione hoped was mutual respect. 

They agreed to only contact one another in the event of an emergency or if they gained new information. Severus left, and just like that Hermione was going back to her life on the run.

* * *

  
  
She landed in the clearing near the tent and sent her Patronus to get Harry to pull her in. It was much easier than finding the wards herself. A hand appeared from thin air. She took hold and was pulled back into the camp and into a very strong hug. Harry didn’t let her go, and she rested her head against his chest, enjoying the moment. 

“I was so worried you wouldn’t come back,” Harry said.

Her heart dropped. “I’ll always come back, Harry, I won’t leave you,” she said, her despair from the day before seeming more distant than ever. 

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he said, unravelling them from the hug. He pulled something from his pocket. “Happy Birthday Hermione, I’m sorry we forgot, and sorry about the present.”

She examined the gift in her hand. It was a small stick with five rounded pebbled glued to the top, each with a crudely drawn owl on the front. They blinked their eyes and hooted demented hoots that were vaguely reminiscent of the Happy Birthday song. She giggled. “Thanks Harry, it’s really sweet.”

Ron stumbled out of the tent and gave them a flat look, his eyes narrowed. “You’re back.”

She tried to refrain from giving a sarcastic comment in return, but couldn’t help it. “Hello, Ron. I see you missed me. How were the mushrooms?” Her anger built up more quickly than she was prepared for. 

“They were crap, obviously,” he replied. “Did you bring food?”

“I did,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from doing something she might regret. 

“And you were out all night getting it, I suppose.” 

“No, Ron, I wasn’t. It was my birthday, and I decided I would rather have fun away from this tent and your negative commentary.” Her hand gripping her wand was shaking in rage. She felt Harry’s hand over her own as he gently pressed her wand arm down. 

“Fun, as in getting pissed you mean,” Ron said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes Ron, I was getting pissed, and I had a wonderful time, thank you,” she said and gave him a false smile. 

“Come on mate, we forgot her birthday and this has been tough on all of us. Cut her some slack, all right?” Harry said. “She’s back now, that’s all that matters.”

“I want to know where she went and who she was with.” Ron stood his ground.

Hermione’s head was starting to pound again as the hangover potion began wearing off. “I don’t want to argue Ron, I want to go inside and lie down. I’ll show you the food I got.”

Harry released her hand, and she calmly walked toward the tent. Ron didn’t budge from the doorway as she stepped right up to him.

“Move Ron.”

“No, not until you tell us where you went.”

“I went somewhere safe and with someone I trust. That should be enough if you _actually_ trusted me.” This is not what she needed right now, and her tolerance for idiocy was wearing thin. 

Harry appeared between them. His hands pressing on both their shoulders. “Leave it, Ron. Let Hermione in and let’s see the food.”

“Fine.” Ron stepped aside. Hunger was a powerful motivator, and Hermione was glad of the distraction. But was sure it wasn’t over.

She pulled the box out of her bag and showed them the treasure trove of food. Ron immediately perked up when he saw the fresh bread and a sizeable chunk of ham. He set about making a sandwich before she even showed them the rest. She took out all the perishable items that needed eating first. Then discovered at the bottom of the box, packages of Army supply rations. Small, ready to eat meals that apparently lasted forever. There was enough for several months. She silently thanked Severus again.

“You did really well Hermione,” Harry said as he ripped open a packet of biscuits and starting digging in. Ron was silenced for the meantime as he ate his way through a whole loaf of bread in the form of ham sandwiches. 

She didn’t stop them. They could ration the remaining food later. This was worth it for the moments of pleasure one could only get from being starved and then having endless food to choose from. She was sure they would all be sick later. Much like she felt now. 

She tucked all the ration packs back into her beaded bag. If they had to leave in a hurry, at least she would always have them. She lay down on her bunk and went straight to sleep with the sounds of chewing filling the tent. 

* * *

  
  
  
She was awoken later that night by Harry shaking her shoulder with his finger pressed to his lips to indicate silence. All the lights were out in the tent and Harry took her hand and quietly led her out to their fire area. Voices echoed clearly up from the river side. Ron was already there, crouched down and listening intently.

Hermione settled herself on the cold ground and strained her ears. She recognised some of them! One was Dean Thomas from school, another Ted Tonks—Tonk’s dad. And by the gruff language interchanging with English, she worked out there were also goblins present. 

They sat quietly and listened with extendable ears that they hovered out past the wards. They listened closely as the group told each other stories about how they had escaped. Hermione heard them mention several people they knew, and it was a relief to find out they were alive and well. Dean told the group of runaways about Neville, Ginny, and Luna’s attempted sword heist. Ron raised his fist and gave a quiet, “Yes,” upon hearing that.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Dean mention Snape. 

“I heard he was a right mess when they dropped him at the Hogwarts gates. It was McGonagall who found him. And we all know how much shit she’s been giving him since he became Headmaster. But still, she did the right thing and got him patched up. Though they didn’t do a very good job of it. Sounds like he was _crucioed_. Bloody good job I say.” 

Hermione let out a gasp, causing Harry to put his hand over her mouth and shush her. She did her best to stay quiet, even inside their wards it was better to be safe. It dawned on her that it was because of the sword that Severus was punished. Because he let her friends go rather than make an example of them. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to listen to any more of the description. She peeled Harry’s hand off her mouth, then turned away and crept back to the tent. 

Her stomach felt like a pit filling with rocks at the weight of the realisation. Severus was in real danger. She had assumed he was in some sort of Death Eater fight, or wounded on a raid. Not tortured by his ‘own people.’ It was despicable. 

Ron and Harry barged into the tent in a rush of excited energy. Hermione wiped her eyes and put on a false smile.

“Did you hear that! Snape’s finally getting what’s coming to him!” Ron said. 

“You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Ron,” she snapped at him. She took a breath and told herself to calm down. 

“No need to go mental,” Ron said.

“That’s it!" Harry said as he jumped out of the chair he had just sat down in. Both Hermione and Ron turned to Harry.

“What?” Ron asked.

“The sword! The sword of Gryffindor. They must have been trying to get it for us. They probably don’t know why, but Dumbledore did! It can destroy Horcruxes.”

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. “Harry, you’re right! It’s blade will have basilisk venom infused in it.” She couldn’t believe they hadn’t worked it out earlier. She had a brain wave. “Phineas Nigellus!” she said out loud.

“Who?” Ron said. 

She ignored him and rummaged through her bag until a full-sized portrait rested on her lap. “Phineas Nigellus Black,” she repeated. “Sirius’s Great Grandfather, and Hogwarts Headmaster. His portrait is in Snape’s office!”

“You mean Dumbledore’s office,” said Harry.

“Yes, Harry,” she said sarcastically. ”And I suspect he might have seen Dumbledore destroy the ring.”

The boys sat either side of her while they summoned a very cranky Phineas Nigellus back to his portrait. Harry and Ron were concerned he would pass information on to Snape about them, so Hermione blindfolded him to give them a sense of security. 

Their conversation confirmed that Dumbledore had destroyed the ring with the sword. Suddenly it wasn’t only Hermione who was pissed off that Dumbledore kept this crucial piece of information to himself. For once, all three of them were on the same page about Dumbledore.

Harry brought up the obvious issue of Snape having the sword. Which wasn’t at all an issue to Hermione, she was relieved to have something useful to move forward.

“Maybe when we sneak into Hogwarts and look for the other Horcruxes, we can break into Snape's office and do a proper job of getting the sword, and knock off Snape while we’re at it,” Ron said.

That was it. The rage surged through Hermione’s blood and under every inch of her skin. Her reactions were too fast for her thoughts. She had her wand pressed to Ron’s chest before either of them knew it. His own wand dropped to his side, and he held his hands up in surrender. 

“That’s enough, Ron!” she said, knowing it was irrational, but she didn’t care.

“Are you taking the mick, Hermione?” he said with a weak laugh.

“No, Ron. I’ve had enough of your unhelpful comments and jokes about killing Snape and Death Eaters. You’ve never killed anyone in your life and you have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea what it’s like for them, what Death Eaters are forced to do.”

“What and you do, Hermione? You haven’t killed anyone either. But all I know is they had a choice. And they chose to be on the other side.” 

Her hand was shaking and Ron stepped closer to her, forcing her back. Testing her, just as she had done to Severus. 

Harry once again forced himself between them. “Put your wand away, Hermione.”

She didn’t move. 

“I’ll hex both of you if I have to,” Harry warned, waving his wand between the two of them.

Hermione stepped back and lowered her wand, but didn’t take her eyes off Ron.

“Your shagging one of them! That’s what it is.” Ron said, he reached for his wand and pointed it at Hermione as he spoke. “Admit it!”

“I’m doing no such thing! How dare you say that,” she yelled back. Her muscles quivering with the tension of holding herself back. Blood pounded in her ears as her vision tunnelled in on Ron, and curses she could use to hurt him flashed wildly through her mind. 

“Please stop this,” Harry said, but she ignored him. Ron was trying to hurt her and he needed to be taught a lesson. 

“Ron, you didn’t mean that. Just take it back,” Harry said.

“No. I meant what I said. Either it’s _you_ she’s shagging, or a Death Eater. Because it sure as hell isn’t me,” Ron said.

Hermione stepped back as if Ron had actually hit her. Her jaw locked and her gaze darted to Harry.

Harry backed away from Ron and stepped closer to Hermione. “Woah, way off, mate. I think you best shut up now. Hermione’s like my sister. How can you even suggest that? You know both of us.” Harry said, his voice raised, no longer the mediator. 

Hermione moved closer to Harry and told herself not to lash out at Ron. “Is that what this is about Ron? I’m not interested in you, so you’re acting like a spoilt brat? Admit it.”

“No. This is about you two always taking sides against me, and Hermione sneaking off and not tell us who with. Why are you okay with this, Harry? Or are in on it?” Ron asked.

“It’s the Horcrux.” Hermione said glanced at her bag on the chair. “It’s getting to us all. We need to calm down.”

“You’re just trying to avoid telling us the truth, Hermione. Admit it,” his skin was flushed and the whites of his eyes showing. There was no arguing with him now. “Admit it!” He spat.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ron, but I will if you don’t calm down,” Hermione said. Harry had his wand raised as well.

“You’re an idiot Harry if you can’t see the truth. She’s out there shagging a Death Eater, leading us on false trails no doubt. We can’t trust her.”

“Ron, this is no way to talk to your friends, there’s no coming back from this,” Harry said.

“It’s probably Draco Malfoy, knowing our luck. Is it Malfoy, Hermione?” his eyes drilled into her. “Answer me!” 

Hermione couldn’t do this. Her hands were shaking. She never expected to have a _crucio_ curse at the tip of her tongue aimed at one of her best friends. But here she was, wanting very much to use it. She took a breath. She wanted to hurt him. But not like that. 

“ _Digitus confractus_ ,” she said before Ron could do anything.

He screamed and dropped his wand hand as her curse hit him.

“You bitch!” His fingers bent out at unnatural angles and he crouched over in pain.

“Leave Ron,” Harry said. “Leave before one of us does something they regret.”

“She broke all my fucking fingers,” Ron said, staring at his shaking, mutilated hand. 

Hermione wanted to do something far worse to him. She felt it creeping up in her blood. The need to hurt him. But it was the Horcrux talking. It was in the back of all their minds, slowly wheedling its way into their lives and eating away at their psyches. She forced back the dark thoughts, hand vibrating with tension. Tears crept from the corners of her eyes as Ron slowly got up.

“Fine. I’m better off without either of you. Don’t come crying to me when Death Eaters screw you over.” Ron clutched his hand to his chest. Hermione knew he could never fight either of them without his wand hand, he wouldn’t have a chance. He grabbed his backpack and turned to leave. Halfway out the tent door, he turned.

“You’ve fucked up, Hermione.” He looked at her with cold eyes, then walked out into the darkness.

Hermione collapsed into Harry’s arms and burst into tears. She heard the crack as he Disapparated away and she couldn’t hold back the sobs. There was no way he could come back. He could never find them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the comments on the last chapter were so wonderful! Thank you so much. I hope you liked this nice long chapter :)


	12. The Death Eater’s Ball

Severus stared at his formal robes in disgust. The last thing he wanted was get dressed up and attend a party, but he had little say in the matter. He forced himself into the tuxedo style robes and secured his wand in his sleeve.

He poured a large Ogden’s and downed in one mouthful as he looked around his chambers for anything that might need his attention, anything to delay his departure. But there was nothing else to do, and he had to get going. 

He set out across the school grounds to the front gate. Snow crunched underfoot, and winter fireflies lit up the path in a blue glow as he swatted them away. He was nearly at the gate when his chilled fingers grew warm against the moonstone ring. He had not heard from Hermione in recent times. In the past three months since they last met, he had only communicated with her twice. From the slow warming of the ring, he knew she wasn’t in trouble. If something was wrong, her emotions torpedoed through the ring with such force that it shot into his hand like a bullet. A hard thing to hide if he was in public.

He pressed his thumb to the ring and allowed the image to flow through. He saw a middle-aged woman holding a mirror up to her face. She then poked her tongue out at him. He did not recognise her. The woman then brought her hand up to the mirror and wiggled her fingers in front, and he saw her ring and knew it was Hermione. 

‘ _Polyjuiced up_ ’. Her message came through.

It was tonight, then. Severus knew Hermione and Potter had planned to go to Godric’s Hollow at some point, despite his warnings not to. Apparently Potter wasn’t going to have his mind changed, so he had asked her to at least inform him when they went. If they remained in disguise they shouldn’t be detected, he hoped. Though it left an unsettling weight in his gut.

He reached the looming Hogwarts gate and Disapparated as he walked through. He found himself in front of the equally oppressive gate of Malfoy Manor. The winter chill in the air was most welcome. He preferred the thought of staying outdoors all night, rather than entering the snake-pit of a party. 

He strode up the drive and confidently marched his way through the centre of the party, straight to the hostess. Narcissa Malfoy accepted his kiss on her hand with all the elegance and charm of a two faced deceiver, a true Slytherin Queen. 

“Lovely to see you Severus, please escort me to the bar. I should like to test the new barman.”

“Of course.” He held her feather of a hand lightly above his own and led her to the bar, away from prying ears.

“Thank you for the invitation. It seems you have outdone yourself yet again, Narcissa.”

“Oh, stop the act, Severus. You know I wanted nothing to do with this party.”

The barmen returned with their drinks and Narcissa led Severus to the window overlooking the garden. She sipped her glowing cocktail as Severus held his glass without taking a sip. She scanned the crowd as if looking for someone, then turned back to Severus. “Pretend I’m showing you my new garden statues as we speak.”

He followed her gaze beyond the window and to the garden lit by fairy lights. He gave a slight flick of his wand. “It is safe to speak,” he said.

“It is becoming too much. They ask so much of Draco, and Lucius is too much of a coward to stand up now. I need to get Draco out,” she whispered. Then let out a perfect light-hearted laugh as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Severus responded with a curt smile, then pointed to something imaginary out the window, Narcissa nodded along. They had done this many times.

“I’m working on it. Just have him prepared to co-operate. Send him back to school if the Dark Lord wills it. I’ve given him a glowing review in his work reforming other students to the Dark Lord’s ways. Hopefully that’s enough to get him back there. I have a few things that need to fall into place before I can remove him safely. But it will be done.”

“I trust you, Severus.”

“It will be over soon enough, Narcissa, just hold on.”

She nodded and gave him a genuine smile as she turned back to her party. 

Severus spent the next hours making tedious small talk with Death Eaters, and periodically vanishing his drink into a nearby plant, or vase, then making sure he was seen going to the bar to get another. Beautiful woman in ball gowns asked him to dance, and he said yes to every one. The Dark Lord was watched him, it was all part of his game. As the night went on, the drinks flowed and the dancing loosened up. 

The Dark Lord sat at the head of the room on a throne of ebony wood. Bellatrix was never far away, always flitting around like an unhinged bat. Lucius sat at the other side of the Dark Lord, largely ignored, a pathetic shell of the man he used to be. Severus settled to the outskirts of the room, mingling with Ministry officials and _Imperiused_ victims alike. It was all a great show and one that Severus had spent a lifetime making sure he was part of. At least it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

Severus’s skin crawled as an unwelcome hand made its way around his waist. “Severus, you haven’t asked me to dance yet,” Bellatrix said in a sing song voice.

“I was merely saving the best for last,” Severus said, focusing on his drink.

She laughed and snaked her other arm around him, pulling their bodies hard against each other. “The hardest fishy to catch. Come on let’s have a dance.”

He put down his drink and tried to pry her off him gently. A technique that never worked on Bella. She just clung tighter. He grabbed both her wrists and forced her arms in front of her between them and pushed her away from the crowd.

“Trying to get me alone Severus?” She ran her tongue over her lip and tried to free her hands.

“I think not. May I remind you of your beloved husband?” 

She laughed in response. “That’s why I like you Severus, you always make me smile.”

He let go of her hands and she spun off in a dramatic whirling spiral, then came straight back to him. Avoiding dancing with her was the mission. “Where is Nagini tonight? Is she not well?” he asked. Hoping conversation might distract her. 

“She is very well indeed, and will be much better soon if all goes as planned. Quite the feast the Dark Lord has planned for her.”

Severus did his best to continue the conversation, though he wanted nothing more than to leave, but he was yet to get back in the Dark Lord’s good graces. Bellatrix, however, was the recent favourite in his ear. 

“Very good,” he said, hoping she would leave him alone. Instead, she grasped his hand and dragged him to the dance floor as a slow song began. 

Her grip on his hand tightened and his fingers went numb in seconds. Her breath was hot and smelled unpleasantly of wine, but he was forced to remain close to her. From many years of experience he knew how to handle Bella, and the best way was to go along with it. He had witnessed what happened when one didn’t.

The song changed, but they remained on the dance floor. Bellatrix’s hands snaked behind his neck, and he moved his to her waist. They swayed to the music as she pulled him down closer to her shadowy eyes and pouting lips.

Her mouth hovered near his as her tongue flicked out and ran across his lip. “I’m watching you, Severus. I see more than you know.” She closed her eyes to sway with the song.

“There’s nothing to see, Bella. I am but a humble servant of the Dark Lord, and therefore an open book. We can have no secrets.”

Her eyes flashed open. “So everyone thinks.” Her eyes drilled into his own. She was trying to reach into his mind, but it was a poor effort. He didn’t need to adjust his Occlumency shields to stop her. Instead he pushed an image to the front of his mind of them dancing. He then went a step further and showed an image of him kissing her. It was either what she wanted to see, or enough to throw her off the trail.

A sly smile crept across her face. “My, my, Severus,” she said. 

He regretted his plan instantly, but at least it worked. She eyed his lips hungrily, and he knew what was coming next. She reached up and pushed her mouth to his. He forced himself to react, though it was the last thing he wanted. He kissed her back. He broke it off as fast as he could. He saw Rodolphus LeStrange out the corner of his eye, watching without reaction.

“We can’t Bella, this is wrong, we are not doing this. You are married and the Dark Lord—I don’t think he would be pleased,” he said. He wanted nothing more than to wash the taste of her out of his mouth. 

She trailed her lips down his neck and Severus tensed. She stepped back with a look that told Severus this wasn’t over. “Fine.” She spotted her husband watching them and waved. “I’ve had my fun for now,” she said, pouting. “I’ll get you properly one day Severus.” 

She winked at him and sauntered off toward the Dark Lord and his latest entourage. As Severus turned, a sharp pain ripped through his hand like hot liquid metal. It took all his willpower not to scream out in agony. He clutched his hand that contained the ring and walked as calmly as he could to a private power room off the hall.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus the pain into legible thoughts or feelings that were cascading in from Hermione. There was no doubt that she was injured and panicking. But nothing to tell him where she was or what had happened. The pain receded. He tried to send messages back through, but with no response. 

He washed his face and waited a further five minutes. Still nothing. She could be unconscious, the ring might have fallen off, she might be dead, or perhaps she just happened to touch the ring while having a nightmare. He knew the last was unlikely. She was at Godric’s Hollow with Potter, and something had gone wrong.

He forced himself to return to the party and slowly made his way to the head of the room, helping himself to a fresh drink and some hors d'oeuvres along the way. The ring pulsed with intermittent waves of panic, mingled with terror and no coherent messages. He couldn’t help her. 

He moved through the crowd as if nothing were wrong. As he neared the front of the room, a buzz of excited energy began building in the air. The Dark Lord had a menacing smile across his face, and Bellatrix was jumping up and down with glee. Narcissa pulled him aside to a free table as he paused. “Severus dear. I’d love to hear more about Draco’s education. Please sit with me.”

He sat, but kept an eye on the front of the room. “What’s happened?”

“I believe the Dark Lord has found Potter,” Narcissa said with a smile. “Such good tidings on Christmas Eve, don’t you agree?”

“Good tidings indeed,” he said, playing along. Inside, his veins filled with ice. There was no doubt they had been caught. 

“Keep your head up,” Narcissa gave a friendly warning.

“I need to get out of here,” Severus whispered.

“You know that isn’t possible Severus. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

He sat back and returned his usual sneer to his face. People knew he didn’t like to stay late at such events. It couldn’t be such a surprise if he left. But he couldn’t be the first one. 

Suddenly the room filled with the echo of a booming voice. The Dark Lord stood on a table with his arms spread wide.

“I have a prize for us tonight, my friends!” He looked to his audience for a reaction, his eyes sparkling.

Severus raised a glass and cheered along with the rest of them. 

“I shall return shortly with my prize! Then we shall feast and celebrate like never before!” A roar came from the crowd as he dimmed the lights and sent a cloud of smoke across the ballroom in the shape of the Dark Mark. Severus’s arm burned in response and along with the crowd Severus held his wand high toward the ceiling and let out a stream of eerie green light in celebration.

The windows of the ballroom shattered and the Dark Lord flew out into the night.

“Oh my windows,” Narcissa said, frowning. Then turned to Severus and whispered. “Now is the time, Severus. But you must return for the celebrations. Your absence will be noted.” She walked to the front of the ballroom and stood beside Lucius to draw the crowd’s attention. She nodded toward Bella, who screamed out to the room. “You heard the Dark Lord! Let us prepare to celebrate!”

Severus slipped out the side door as the music bled away and fireworks blasted behind him. He had no idea where Hermione’s last camp was, so he had no hope of finding her there. He would have to go to Godric’s Hollow. 

He landed in the Graveyard of the old village. A Christmas tree stood in the central square as snow fell peacefully onto crooked gravestones around him. There was no sign of any danger, except the faint smell of smoke on the air. He stood still and closed his eyes.

The ring burned once more. He pressed his thumb to it and prayed to any god listening that they had gotten away. The ring was searing his finger like glowing iron. 

‘ _Spinners End. Please hurry._ ’ Her message laced with the same panic as before. 

He pulled his thumb away from the ring and held his hand in the snow to numb it back to normal. Suddenly he was gripped by a ripping pain that spread through his arm like a serrated blade. He pulled up the sleeve to see the Dark Mark tattoo writhing and crawling against his skin. The Dark Lord was summoning everyone, and there was no doubt he was pissed off. 

Severus made a split second decision. He had to get to Hermione and Harry, nothing was more important. He just hoped Narcissa had a good cover story planned for him or they were all screwed. He stood up and focused on Spinner's End.


	13. Spinner’s End Again

Hermione landed hard as the weight of Harry toppled her over. She pushed him off and he lay slumped on the icy porch. Blood was trickling down his face and out the sleeve of his jacket. She forced herself up and tapped her wand to the door at the Spinner’s End house, sending a message through the celestial spider’s web ward to allow Harry entry. 

She opened the door and used a hover charm to float Harry just inside the doorway. Then he dropped to the ground. It was all she could manage. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she said, though he couldn’t hear her. He was out cold from the moment they crashed through the second-story window of Bathilda Bagshot’s house. 

She wasn’t even sure what happened at Godric’s Hollow. One minute they were in an old lady’s house looking for answers (well Harry was looking for the sword, Hermione was looking from clues for Horcruxes or the Deathly Hallows), then the next minute Harry was screaming out, and then there was a giant snake.

Hermione straightened Harry out on the ground as best she could. His skin was clammy, and she didn’t know where all the blood was coming from. Their polyjuice potion had worn off, but Harry remained in the oversized sweater of a much larger man. She cut the sweater open with her wand and peeling it off him as best she could. One arm was saturated with blood. A good place to start. She did a _Tergio_ spell over the area and spotted two giant puncture holes in his forearm oozing blood.

“Hang in there Harry, I’m going to fix you up and help is on its way,” she told him, knowing her voice did not sound at all calm. Maybe it would help for him to know she was there. She continued to talk to him as she did her best to find all the places he was bleeding.

His hand was the next obvious. A huge gash from a shard of glass by the look of it. She cleaned the wound and stuffed some gauze into it temporarily. He was covered in cuts from the exploding glass, as was she. She recalled exploding a mirror with a _Congrigo_ charm, and there must have been more glass when Harry crashed them through the window to plummet to the hard ground which Hermione had barely managed to soften with a sub-par cushioning charm. Hermione knew she would be sore later, but she didn’t have time to think about herself. 

She hoped Severus would arrive soon and that he knew something about snake bites, because she was out of her depth. Her chest grew tighter as more time passed. Harry wasn’t waking up, and she kept finding more things wrong with him. She cut open his shirt next and nearly vomited when she saw his chest. 

The metal of the Horcrux locket had fused onto him and was half embedded in his skin. The area around it was inflamed with tendrils like red spiderwebs creeping out from the edges. She held her shaking hands over his chest, but had no idea what to do. She didn’t even know he had been wearing it. 

The door suddenly flew open. She rose from the ground as Severus stood in the doorway. He was dressed in full formal robes, which she would certainly have been impressed with, if it weren’t for his panicked look that drew her gaze.

His eyes fell on her and as the door slammed, he took two sort steps and grasped her by the shoulders. “Why are you covered in blood?”

She let out a sob of relief and was unable to get any words out. Her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her face into his chest. He pulled her in tight and then pulled her back gently and lowered her into a chair. She took a big gulp of air. 

“I’m sorry I came here Severus, but Harry—” She choked back tears. “Harry needs help.” 

His eyes remained on her, he hadn’t even noticed Harry on the ground. Or he didn’t care. A wet cloth appeared in his hand and he began wiping her face. She jerked back as tiny pinpricks of pain shot through her skin. She was shocked to see the cloth he pulled away was stained bright red. He pointed his wand at her face and she froze. There was a split second of sharp pain. Then tiny shards of glistening red glass were following his wand in a thin stream and dropped into a bowl that had appeared on her lap.

His arm rested on her knee where she propped up the bowl, and with the other he wiped her face once more. This time it smelled like jasmine and antiseptic. Slowly her mind came into focus. 

“Tell me what happened,” he said. His hand remained on her knee as he looked up at her.

“I don’t know, but the snake bit Harry, you need to help him.” Her eyes darted to Harry. He had grown paler.

Severus placed the bowl on the side table and turned from his crouching position to look at Harry. “Very well.” Apparently satisfied with Hermione’s patch up. 

A blanket appeared from nowhere and covered the sofa. Severus stood up and hovered Harry onto it, then summoned a stool from somewhere else and sat down. Hermione stood at Severus’s shoulder and noticed the unmistakable print of lipstick on his neck. She frowned, then leaned over and focused on Harry.

“He has several cuts from glass, the snake bite on his arm, and the Horcrux is in his chest,” she said, forcing herself to breathe calmly. “I don’t even know how or why he was wearing it.”

Severus said nothing, but repeated the same glass removal spell on Harry. Then a less careful one to remove the glass from both their clothes. The shards twisted in the air in a vortex as he drew them out and tumbled them into the bowl. 

His hands moved quickly and with practised ease as he removed the gauze Hermione had stuffed in the snake bites. She held another bowl for him to drop them in. Blood sprung straight out of the wounds like a freshwater spring. Snape plugged them up again and told Hermione which kitchen cupboard to retrieve a powder labelled _Serpens mordeat_. 

She hunted through cupboards and returned swiftly. Severus unstopped the powder and sprinkled a pinch over each snake bite. The blood in the wounds bubbled up like craters of lava, then slowly thickened to a dark red film holding the blood at bay. “We’ll need to apply this every two hours,” he explained. 

Without hesitating, he moved to examine Harry’s chest. Hermione held her tongue, wanting to tell him to be careful, but knew it wouldn’t help. He knew as well as she did what it was. The tendrils creeping out across Harry’s chest had spread, and the skin around the locket looked hot and angry.

“We’ll have to cut it out,” Severus said.

Hermione's skin crawled at the thought.

“I need to gather a few items. Please attend to Potter’s hand using essence of dittany. I’ll only be a few minutes,” Severus said as he stood up.

She nodded and took his place on the stool. Dittany. Of course, how did she not think of that before? She pulled the dittany from her bag and also found the alertness perfume and gave herself a quick spray. She should have thought of that before as well.

Feeling a little more composed, she exposed the wound slicing through Harry’s palm. It was lucky he was still asleep, as this would be rather painful. She cleaned the cut once more and let two drops of dittany fall into the wound. It hissed like a searing steak and neatly knitted itself together, leaving a shiny purple scar. 

She stoked Harry’s hand gently. “Everything will be okay, Harry. You’ll be back to health in no time.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and without thinking, she placed her hand on top of it and gave a soft squeeze. She looked up and smiled and relinquished the stool back to Severus. He got to work immediately. His fingers worked with surgical precision. Which was just as well, since he was actually performing surgery on Harry. Hermione forced herself to watch as he neatly cut away the flesh from the metal of the locket using a glowing red scalpel. The flesh singed and smoked at he made deliberate lines across Harry’s skin.

He told Hermione to put on gloves and hold the locket up, using forceps as he cut away more flesh. As she pulled it away slowly, Severus cut the last line of stretched skin and Harry was free. Hermione held the locket at arm’s length and placed it in another bowl that appeared near her. She took off the gloves and resisted the urge to throw the thing out the window.

Snape leaned over Harry’s chest with growing concern in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Trying to avoid looking into the raw locket shaped wound. He placed three drops of dittany into it. Nothing happened. 

“Just as I feared. I don’t know if this will heal. Magical injuries such as these are most unusual. Perhaps only time will tell.” He stood up and stretched, then looked at the clock.

“I’ve stayed too long,” he said. His face no longer calm. “What happened at Godric’s Hollow? Did you see the Dark Lord?”

She shook her head. “He was coming, Harry saw him but we escaped in time. His snake was attacking us, it must have told the Dark Lord we were there. Why do you have to go?” 

“He will know I’m gone. I cannot be associated with his failure. If he makes the connection of my disappearance with Potter, I will not be returning.”

Cold fear raced through her. “Is it safer for you to just not go back? Will he know?”

“Narcissa will cover for me as long as possible. He was expected to be returning for a wild celebration, not an embarrassing failure. He will not be happy.”

“Just say you went to get something to add to the celebration. I don’t know.” She shrugged but felt helpless. “Wine or something? Drugs? What do Death Eaters like?”

He gave the hint of a smile, but shook his head. “Everything depends on his moods and whims.”

“He’s a lunatic. You could die going back there now,” she said, suddenly realised the gravity of what he risked coming to her aid. She wanted to tell him not to go. To just stay here and remain safe. But she knew she couldn’t ask that.

“Just give Potter the _Serpens mordeat_ powder every two hours, set an alarm. After 6am, you can wait six hours for the next dose. I’ve given him enough sedatives to knock him out until tomorrow night. He cannot wake up and work out where he is, you understand this?”

She nodded. Her heart rate was building up. He was talking as if he wasn’t coming back.

“Good. Now help me take him up to the spare room.”

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from crying and concentrated on the task at hand. Harry was soon settled in the spare room. Snape transported the armchair from the living room and managed to squish it onto the small gap between the bed and the chest of draws with a little transfiguration. Hermione placed Harry’s broken wand on the top of the dresser. He would not be happy when he saw that. 

“You may take my bed and get some proper sleep after Potter is stable. I don’t imagine I’ll be returning until late morning, and that’s if all goes well.”

Hermione tried to act brave, but her lip was trembling. The thought of being here alone and him not returning was not something she wanted to consider.

She nodded once more in response. “Please stay safe,” she said, as he turned toward the door.

“I despise parties and it is not in my plans to die at one,” he said.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. He smiled back and was gone. 

Hermione spent the rest of the very long night either sitting huddled in the chair, or pacing the room. She checked Harry’s pulse obsessively and sat there watching his chest rise and fall, just to make sure he remained alive. The alarm buzzed every two hours, and she shook a little powder into each snake bite puncture. Each time it absorbed the powder, but didn’t seem to get any better. 

She dozed in the chair in between alarms but wouldn’t allow herself to properly sleep. The house creaked, and the wind whipped at the windows outside. Though Harry was there, she had never felt more alone in her life. She busied herself between Harry’s check ups with organising various items in the house. She straightened and reorganised everything in the kitchen cupboards. She didn’t rare rearrange the bookshelves, but straightened them all up and fixed a few bindings here are there.

She went back to sitting in the chair by Harry’s side when exhaustion took over her ability to tidy up. She prayed to every god she had ever read about and forced her will on the universe to save him and for Severus to come back alive.

As 6am rolled around, Severus still hadn’t returned. Harry was breathing well, and she gave him the last dose of powder and a final check over. Her leg creaked as she stood up. She kissed Harry on the head and told him to sleep well. She tiptoed out of the room and crossed the hallway to Severus’s room. It felt so wrong to go in there, but the need to sleep outweighed her discomfort.. 

She flicked on the light and surveyed the room through drooping eyelids. The bed looked like heaven. It was neatly made up with a plain grey bedspread and a green tartan blanket folded at the end. She used the last ounce of energy to light the fire with her wand, then stripped off her jeans and fell into bed. As she tucked her bag under the pillow, she wondered what Severus was doing. 

She felt nothing through the ring, but he was careful never to share his emotions. Hopefully he knew what he was doing. She let the heavy blanket envelop her. She snuggled into the warmth and let the sweet pull of sleep dragged her away, hoping Severus would be back when she awoke. 


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione’s eyes flashed open. Rustling came from the corner of the room. She pushed back the blankets and flashed her wand with a strong _lumos_ in the direction of the sound.

“I was trying not to wake you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest. Severus was back. “Why are you covered in blood?” she asked. Her stomach dropped, and she tried to swallow the panic down.

He leaned a hand against the dresser and turned away from her. His hair was matted, his skin clammy looking, and a trail of blood trickled from one ear. He looked back at her and one eye was completely bloodshot. It was clear he was having trouble standing upright. 

She raced from the bed to catch him before he toppled over. “Come sit down.” He leaned on her heavily as she forced him to the edge of the bed and made him sit down. She turned on the lights and he blinked, then averted his eyes when he saw she was only in her underwear and a t-shirt. 

“You’ve got bigger things to concern yourself with than seeing my legs, like trying to remain conscious,” she said as she stopped him from topping over sideways. 

“How’s Potter doing?” he asked as she started wiping the blood from his face, just as he had done for her the night before. 

Her half asleep brain could only cope with one thing right now. His hand latched around her wrist with a buzz that pulsed through her skin. “Potter?” he repeated.

“He’s fine. I followed all your instructions. It’s you I’m worried about now. He lowered her hand, and she turned over his palm to see fine jolts of blue light running through it like pathways. His hand twitched with each jolt. She looked up at him in horror.

“You’ve been _crucioed_ ,” she said.

“Indeed, I have. But I’d quite like to have a shower now if you don’t mind.”

She stared at him in horror. How was he even conscious? “Isn’t that dangerous? What if you pass out?”

“This wasn’t my first Death Eater party, Hermione. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re clearly not doing parties right if this is how you end up,” she said, shocked that he was so calm about this. 

“The water will help. Calm yourself down,” he said kindly. He squeezed her hand gently, then released it.

“But, but—”

“If I feel like I might pass out, I will be sure to first sit down,” he said. As if that was a real solution. 

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Go back to sleep, you look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically, then checked her watch. It had only been forty-five minutes since she went to bed, hardly enough sleep for one night. “I’ll make some recovery tea, it will help with the shocks.”

“Very well.” He stood up and, with a slight sway in his step, made it back to his dresser. He pulled out some clothes and left the room.

Hermione went down to the kitchen. She took out her book, _The Healer’s Helpmate_ , and checked what to do for crucio victims. Tea was the only suggestion. She set the tea to brew and waited for Severus to come back down, keeping an ear out the entire time, half expecting him to fall in the shower. 

He came back down a short while later dressed in a black t-shirt and grey trackie bottoms. They sat at the table in silence as he drank the special tea and she had chamomile. She tried to subtly look at his eye. The white part was all red and bloodshot.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to look at your eye.”

“A few burst blood vessels, it will be fine.”

“Can you fix it?”

“When I have some strength back, perhaps. Right now, most certainly not.” He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “No, I will not ask you to fix it. You’ve had no sleep, you’ve drained all your magic, and I don’t want you anywhere near my eyeball.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to offer,” she said, raising her chin in the air.

Hermione was on edge as Severus swayed in the chair as if he might fall over any second. “I came across some unsettling news at the Manor,” he said, avoiding looking at her.

She chewed her lip. “What is it?” she asked.

“Your friend Luna Lovegood. She’s been taken and is being held in Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione’s chest tightened and her fingers moved to her bracelet. She looked down and tears blurred the rainbow colours into a blob. She wiped her eyes with her hand. “Why would they take her?”

“It seems Xenophilius has been printing less than complimentary articles about the Dark Lord. He needed a little encouragement to stop.”

“That’s a rather vile way of going about it. Poor Luna. Is she all right?” Hermione asked, imaging Luna cowering in a dark cell, trying to make friends with rats.

“She’s perfectly fine,” Severus said.

“How can she be perfectly fine when she’s locked away in some dank prison!” Hermione snapped.

“Draco has gone out of his way to make sure she is comfortable.”

“Malfoy?”

“Yes, he’s not as bad as you might think,” Severus said. He winced as he turned in his chair.

Hermione snorted. “I’m sure that’s not true. Anyway, we can talk about this later. You’ve finished all the tea and you need to get to bed.” Hermione changed the subject as they were both too tired to get into a pointless argument.

“This is true, but so do you. You take the bed, I’ll take the sofa,” Severus said.

“The sofa is covered in blood, and you’re too tall. You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair by Harry.”

He looked at her as if it were the stupidest idea he ever heard. “I’ll sleep on the ground in the living room then. Just take the bed and stop arguing. We’re both too tired for this,” he said.

“You’re the one who continues arguing. Fine. We will both sleep in the bed, it’s big enough and a logical solution. End of argument.” She collected up the tea cups and placed them in the sink to deal with later. Snape looked like he might set fire to her with his eyes.

“It’s not appropriate,” he said.

“What’s not appropriate is you being tortured by Death Eaters for coming to help me when asked. I didn’t understand the risk when I used the ring. You at least deserve to sleep in your bed.” She was yelling, but she hadn’t meant to. 

His eyes softened as he gave in. He was barely awake. “Very well.” He eased out of the chair and a lightness filled her chest. A small win. She could see the tea already having an effect on him. It worked to relax the nerves and had a strong sedation effect. He plodded up the stairs, using the wall as a guide and Hermione’s shoulder to help him to the top. 

She hoped she hadn’t overdone the dose in the tea. He leaned heavily on her shoulder as she guided him to the bed, and he fell back onto it with a wince of real pain. She pulled the covers from under him and helped him underneath them. His eyes were closed as his head hit the pillow. 

She made her way to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers. She lay back and let herself finally relax.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” Snape whispered, as his voice trailed into sleep.

She turned to face him. “It’s Christmas?” she said as her mouth fell open slightly. But there was no reply. 

How had she not known that? She turn her back to Severus and couldn’t help but wonder what her parents were doing for Christmas, and where Ron was. He was probably tucked up at home looking forward to a new Christmas sweater and a feast of food. No idea his best friend nearly died and was lying in a magically induced sleep. Still, she missed him.

Her parents should be in Australia having Christmas in summer. A concept she couldn’t quite fathom. She silently sent Christmas wishes to them all and set an alarm for four hours so she could check on Harry again. She fell back into the welcoming fold of sleep.

* * *

  
The ringing of the alarm made Hermione want to throw it across the room and smash it. She banged it against the dresser to shut it up and forced herself to sit up. She couldn’t go back to sleep as much as she wanted to. Her entire body hurt, but was glad she had no serious injuries to worry about.

She sat crossed legged on the bed and rubbed her face until she could face opening her eyes properly. She glanced at the shape in the bed next to her. Severus was in the exact position he went to sleep in, lying on his back with a grimace of pain he wouldn’t have dared show if he was awake. She nearly jumped as he groaned and started to move. 

“We slept halfway through Christmas,” she said, mostly to remind him she was there. She didn’t fancy being hexed first thing in the morning because of his well trained reflexes.

“My dream Christmas,” he replied with a croaky voice. 

Hermione smiled to herself. “I always took you as a Christmas Grinch type,” she said, as she pulled her bag from under her pillow and fished out a pair of jeans. She slid them on and re-lit the fire, her magic came easily, even the little sleep had done her wonders.

“You didn’t even know it was Christmas today.” He mumbled as he sat up. He winced and tried to hide his stiff motions. 

“I’ll check Harry,” she said. Bringing her bag with her and offering him some privacy. 

Harry was mumbling in his sleep when she entered the room. His eyes flitting rapidly from side to side under closed lids. She put a hand to his forehead. It was burning hot.

She checked the snake bites and sprinkled the next dose of power into them. The watery surface that had oozed onto the bandage filmed over once more. She washed the area around it and put another bandage on. She would wait for Severus to check his chest, her stomach turned at the thought of it. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she whispered as she left the room. 

She went downstairs, made tea and breakfast, but ate nothing. She waited for Severus. She stood up when she heard him and watched from the doorway as he eased his way down the stairs. It looked painful. He stood at the bottom for a second with his eyes closed, then walked slowly to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. She left a cup of tea and breakfast next to him and went up to shower. She felt a little more alive as she came back down. 

“You want to know what happened,” he stated, as she arrived back downstairs to find him in the same seat and looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course I do. This is all my fault. I should have never agreed to go to Godric’s Hollow with Harry. I should have stopped him.”

“Just as I should have stopped you going?” He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “It’s pointless to think about such things.”

She held her tongue. She hovered in the doorway and looked at the blanket on the sofa, then went over and bundled it up. She went to the utility room and shoved it in the washing machine and came back to find that Severus had somehow removed the bloodstains from the sofa and was sitting there leaning back with his eyes closed. She sat down next to him.

“I’ve never missed Christmas before,” she said. Then suddenly turned to Severus. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?” Thoughts of the Christmas Feasts in the Great Hall paraded across her mind. Visions of Christmas ham, steaming roasted vegetables, plum pudding, and mincemeat pies danced through her hungry brain. Her stomach grumbled loudly in response. 

“We sent everyone home for Christmas this year. Much easier, and I’m hoping a lot of them don’t return. It might be safest that way.” He turned to her—his head still resting against the back of the sofa.

She looked at him and couldn’t take her eyes off his popped eye whites. 

“Is my appearance so distracting to you?” 

Her face grew warm. “Yes. Your eye is rather disturbing.”

“Then don’t look at it.”

“I can’t not look at you.” She grew flustered. 

“Then get used to it,” he said, clearing enjoying her discomfort.

She let out a huff and purposefully looked into the fire. Then remembered Harry.

“Harry! Can you check his chest, please? I didn’t want to look, but he might have a fever. He was moving around and groaning.”

“He’s fine. I gave him a dose of Dreamless sleep before I came down. His chest wound doesn’t look good though. I cleaned it, but we’ll have to keep an eye on it for the next day.”

Hermione relaxed back into the sofa. 

“Touch your ring,” he said in a tone as if they were in potions class, but she listened. “I’ll show you what happened.”

She closed her eyes and let the images take over her mind. 

Flashes of events rushed through the ring faster than real time could possibly allow. She saw memories through Severus’s eyes, and watched as the Dark Lord had raged around a ball room destroying everything insight, including people. Severus eased out of the shadows, the Darks Lord’s eyes locked on him. 

“And where have you been, Severus?” his snake like voiced echoed around the silent hall.

The images flashed forward to Severus lying in a crumpled heap. She felt an echo of the pain from the _crucio_ , but knew it was nothing like the real thing. He was showing her a shielded version. A PG version. 

Voldemort had flung Severus in the air. His body floated weightless over the crowd for all to see. Below him the snake swirled in a gliding spiral, looking up. Then he plummeted to the ground. The snake was there to catch him. The serpent's body wound around him, closing in tighter and tighter. Hermione felt the air squeezed from his chest and felt her own chest convulse in panic, gasping for breath as she concentrated on keeping hold of the ring. 

She felt Severus’s thoughts and feelings as if she were filtered through a pool of water, diluted, but very real. He had scrambled to force up mental walls against the Dark Lord, forged stronger than anything Hermione had even come close to. He retreated further back into his mind, knowing what was coming. 

The Dark Lord pressed his wand to Severus’s forehead. Hermione felt the shock as a crack reverberated through his skull. He had forced his mind into Severus’s with unimaginable severity. 

Hermione convulsed at the shock and felt herself slam against the sofa, but she kept her eyes closed and focused on the ring. She felt Severus’s mind pushing false memories forward and shoving true ones back behind vaults and walls. The Dark Lord had pushed even further, searching, scouring Severus’s thoughts for a hint of betrayal. 

Voldemort came across the chain of false memories from earlier in the night and yanked them from Severus’s mind. It was pieces of truth matched seamlessly with falsehoods. Hermione didn’t know which were real. She watched as the Dark Lord flicked through the events as if skimming through a book. Each page sending a jarring shock through Severus’s skull.

Hermione saw what the Dark Lord had pulled from Severus’s mind—flashes of Severus speaking with Narcissa, Severus making small talk with Death Eaters, a surprising amount of dancing, then an image of Severus kissing Bellatrix—Hermione felt Severus’s disgust roll through with the memory. But the Dark Lord had focused on it, toying with him. Hermione found herself relieved for some reason, at least that that explained the lipstick on Severus’s neck. 

Then the Dark Lord had dug through the memories until he found the moments that happened after he left. At the same time Hermione saw both Severus’s true memory, and the false memory he showed the Dark Lord.

The true memory he had pushed into the depths of his mind. It showed him stopping in Godric’s Hollow. Then the very instant Severus entered the house and saw Hermione covered in blood. Her heart skipped a beat as his true feelings pushed through—his racing pulse as he had turned the door handle, the unexpected release of tension when he saw her alive, his jumbled thoughts, and the warmth of her own skin when she had hugged him. From his face, she never would have guessed he felt any of those things. 

Next she saw what Severus chose to show Voldemort in place of the true memories. The Dark Lord saw Severus arriving home with a terrible headache, finding a pain relief potion, then taking a huge swig of whiskey from the bottle. Then several hours later Severus waking up on the floor. He was panicked and found all the hangover potions, took one himself and shoved the rest in the bag. 

The Dark Lord had removed himself from Severus’s mind and laughed, the spine-chilling laugh of a maniac. 

“I see you had too much of a good time Severus, and I thank you for the gift of your potion. I’m sure many of my fine guests will appreciate the gesture. But just so you remember.” He nodded to Nagini who slithered behind him.

_Crucio_! He screeched in a high, cackling tone. 

Severus’s body collapsed to the ground as jolts of pain writhed through him. Hermione screamed and felt her own body jerk in reaction. Then it was gone.

She was back in the living room and her hand was clasped over the ring. She opened her eyes to find Severus’s holding her up to stop her falling on her face to the ground. He was breathing in quick gasps. 

She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry Severus.”

“I should not have showed you that. I apologise. I didn’t realise the connection in the rings would be so strong.”

“That was horrible. He’s a monster.” She pressed his face into his chest and felt his breath hitch. His chin rested on her head and he rubbed small circles on her back. She loosened her grip around him and sat up. Self consciously wiping her eyes. “We need to stop him.”

Severus leaned back in the sofa, his arm resting across the back. “We will,” he said.

She felt the urge to lean into him. It would have been so easy to rest her head on his shoulder and have his arm fall gently around her. Instead, she told herself to snap out of it. She couldn’t be feeling these things, not when they had a job to do.  
  
“I think I need some breakfast,” she said. Shaken by what he had shown her, but more shaken by her own feelings. She must be over-tired. Or perhaps it was a side effect of the ring. 

She helped herself to the breakfast she had already made, and when she came back to the living room Severus was a looking a lot better. But after what he had been through, there was no way he was okay, even with all his potions and balms and pain killers. He hid it well, and she knew that now. She also knew that he had a lot more feelings than he let on. 

They sat in the living room for most of the afternoon. They tested the rings by sharing more memories. Perhaps it was the painkillers that Severus had taken, but he was in a surprisingly good mood for sharing. She shared memories of her parents with him, mostly of happy times, like looking back at Christmas memories, but also darker ones. She showed him the night she erased her parents’ memories so he could see how complex the spell was, and the reason she thought it was irreversible. 

In return, he shared memories of his childhood and his best friend, Lily Evans. Hermione smiled and felt a lightness run through her as she shared in the deeply personal moments. She was there when Severus first met Lily and told her she had magic. She saw when they escaped their everyday lives to be together as children and how close they became.

She watched in horror as the memories turned dark, and Lily and Severus went down separate paths. Then finally she saw Dumbledore make Severus a promise to keep Lily safe. Then suddenly she was dead. Hermione found tears streaming down her face when he released them from the memory. A deep pain in her chest actually felt like her heart was breaking. She wiped her eyes, embarrassed that she was the one crying, and he was not.

He brushed his thumb against her cheek and wiped her tears. “Sorry, I’m not very good at Christmas am I. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know the truth.” 

“Thank you for sharing that with me. I didn’t think I could hate Dumbledore anymore than I did before, but here we are,” she said and forced herself to stop sniffling. “Harry’s mum seemed so nice. I’m glad you had each other,” she said, truly meaning it.

“At least I have one person who knows the truth now,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should have just watched a Christmas movie?” 

She laughed. “I’ve stopped crying now. It’s fine. But you don’t even have a TV.”

“I think there’s one in the cupboard somewhere. I never bothered to set it up.”

“And you just happen to have some Christmas movies on hand?” she said.

“No. I do not,” he replied.

“I’m going to find out,” Hermione announced.

She found an old TV and VCR under the stairs and a random mix of movies and TV shows to keep them entertained. She set up the Sound of Music, and Severus didn’t complain when she put it on. 

There wasn’t much food in the house, but somehow Severus rustled up a Christmas feast from packet soup, sardines, pickles, and mushie peas. For dessert they had canned pears and corn flakes. Hermione wasn’t complaining, she was just happy to be alive after the night before. 

For not being prepared for Christmas, it turned out to be quite lovely. They sat on the sofa well into the evening watching Monty Python and Doctor Who. Hermione wrapped herself in the cosy green blanket she borrowed from Severus’s bed and slept through half the shows. Severus seem content to sit there not moving, though Hermione suspected he was in more pain than he was letting on.

She went up and checked on Harry every hour or so. He seemed to be improving. Though the wound on his chest didn’t look too good, but Severus had said it might take time.   
  


* * *

  
That night Hermione had the same argument with Severus about sleeping arrangements. It was only 8pm, but they both needed to catch up on sleep. She made sure Severus went to bed first. She knew he was in too much pain to get up again, and this way he couldn’t argue with her. She changed into her Krum shirt, marched into the room and got into the other side of the bed.

Severus was lying with a hand over his ribs. He turned his head toward her. “I’m concerned their would be consequences for you if this current arrangement came to light.”

She pulled up the covers and turned to him, propping herself up on her elbow. “Well, frankly, I don’t care. If people are concerned about such things, they should open their eyes and look at the larger problems in the world.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t care if the Wizarding world accused you of sleeping with me. A known Death Eater and the murderer of Albus Dumbledore?”

“No, because I know that’s not what you really are. I would just have to tell them truth and tell them to shove their misconceptions up their arse.”

He paused and studied her. “And what truth would that be? he asked.

“That you are secretly trying to save the world. That there is another side of you that actually cares about people. That you saved Harry Potter’s life, and that you are actually quite sweet when you want to be.” She swallowed and felt her cheeks heating. Perhaps it was the over-tiredness talking, but she meant what she said. 

Severus glanced away, then turned to face the ceiling. “I doubt anyone would believe that codswallop.” 

“Well, in that case I’ll just say I like you for your bed. Which right now is rather accurate,” she said as she turned to face the ceiling and smiled. 

“At least I have one thing going for me. Perhaps you can use that at my funeral?” 

She twisted her head to find him staring at her. “You’re trying to wind me up again. Stop it. I’ve told you before I’m not going to let you die that easily, so give it a rest and go to sleep.”

He gave a sad smile and turned back to face the ceiling. “You can’t control everything, Hermione.” He flicked his wands, and the lights went out.

“I can try. Goodnight Severus,” she said as she turned the other way, resisting the urge to move closer to him. The glow of the fire bathed the room in a comforting light and she shut her eyes and tried to sleep. Her stomach tightened at the thought of returning to the tent the next day, but she knew this was temporary and Harry needed to wake up and get back to normal. She listened to the sound of Severus breathing and snuggled into the soft bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read this far!  
> Please let me know if you found the flashback scene confusing or hard to follow. It's the first flashback I've written and any feedback on it would be great.  
> Another chapter won't be too far away, happy reading :)


	15. Team Moonstone

Severus woke up to find something warm and soft pressed against his arm. He remained still. Hermione appeared to have become cold in the night and gravitated toward the nearest warm mass. His body. He shouldn’t complain, but he worried what people would say about her if they knew she was staying at his house, let alone sleeping in his bed. Though for some reason she didn’t seem to care.

Severus held his breath and eased his arm out from under her. He clutched a hand to his ribs and braced for the pain as he slipped out the side of the bed, careful not to disturb her. He pulled the blankets back over her and she rolled into them and closed into a ball like a cocoon. He padded across the room, lit the fire and pulled on some socks and a dressing gown, not wanting to rummage around for proper clothes. 

He shut the door and stepped into the room across the hall. Potter was as still as a corpse, but looking decidedly more alive than the previous day. Severus selected a vial from the dresser and using a spell of his own design, he got the boy to swallow the potion without waking up. He checked the wounds, which had improved slightly and replaced the bandages. He then made his way downstairs and set a pot of porridge to stir itself. 

Half an hour later, Hermione trudged downstairs, looking as though she needed more sleep. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Severus at the table with breakfast and tea. He directed her to the kitchen to find hers already prepared. She sat down and after a cup of tea and porridge she was much more lively. Severus watched her out the corner of his eye as she sat there smiling into her tea like an idiot.

“And why are you so cheerful this morning?” he asked. As rained poured down outside, washing away the dusting of snow from previous days.

“I just have a good feeling,” she said, smiling. Better smiling than crying, at least. 

“Wonderful,” he said, looking back at his paper. “Well, I do have good news. I have a plan for getting the sword to Potter, and I believe we may locate another Horcrux within Hogwarts, but we should worry about destroying the locket first.”

“Brilliant!” She leaned in with elbows resting on the table. “Whats the plan then?” 

Severus explained the idea of getting his Patronus to lead Potter away from their camp on a wild goose chase. One that ended in finding the sword in some hard to get to place, as if it were a trial. Hermione’s eyes brightened upon hearing the plan and agreed with everything, adding a few extra ideas here and there. 

They mused over places a Horcrux could be hidden in Hogwarts, and what it might be. But agreed it was best to destroy this one first, then worry about the next.

They spent the rest of the morning in comfortable silence on the sofa, reading. They looked for anything in Severus’s collection of books that might give them new insight into destroying Horcruxes. But they found nothing.

In the afternoon they both sat at Potter’s bedside. Hermione in the armchair by the bed, Severus perched on the edge of the bed. The snake bite had improved considerably. Severus replaced the bandages once more. “I think the poison is out of his system now. The Horcrux wound might take a little longer, but he needs to wake up to start healing properly.” 

Hermione pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. “That’s good news.” But her expression didn’t change but a slow rolling sadness flowed through the ring. 

“I know it isn’t easy living in a tent and on the run. But we have a plan, it won’t be forever,” he said.

“I know.” She gave a false smile and wouldn’t meet his eye. 

Severus got Potter ready to move. Hermione’s shoulders slumped as she packed up her beaded bag with all the extra bandages, potions and first aid items he had gathered. Together they hovered Potter down the stairs and set him on the floor by the front door. 

“I can wait with you until he wakes up if you like?” he said.

“Yes, please,” she said with a quaver in her voice. All the cheeriness of the morning dissipated.

He opened the front door and a stream of freezing wet air rushed in. “Let’s get him up.”

Together they lifted him and propped him on a shoulder each. They shuffled to the wet porch and Severus shut the door. Without another word Hermione Disapparated all three of them and when he opened his eyes, they were standing in a glistening white field.

“Can you hold him up and I’ll put up the tent?” Hermione said.

Severus took Potter’s full weight on his shoulder, trying to ignore the growing pain from the bruises that bloomed beneath his shirt across his ribs and chest. Hermione moved with practised speed as a large tent expanded from her bag and within seconds was standing up before him. She then marched around the perimeter, setting the wards he had taught her. She was faster than any student he had every taught, and the wards were flawless. He couldn’t help but be impressed. 

Hermione rushed back, her feet crunching through the previously untouched snow, and she took Potter’s other arm and they hauled him into the tent.

Severus’s eyes fell on a tatty chair, some rickety looking bunk beds, random pieces of mismatched furniture, and a pile of colourful cushions. He has seen expanded versions of tents before, but this was bigger than most, though a bit rough. They got Potter into the bunk and Hermione placed her bag down on the tidiest bed. Severus sat down in the beaten up arm chair and tried to catch his breath.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, after an unusually long silence. He frowned and wondered if he should ask her the same question.

“I’m fine, just out of breath.” He was still taking sharp intakes of air as he tried to steady his breathing. Every breath sent a fresh wave of pain through him. 

“You’re not fine, let me see,” she demanded. She put a warming charm on the room and stood in front of him. “Can you please open your shirt, or are you going to make me do it?”

“No one would guess I was once your teacher by the way you talk to me,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt, knowing the extra breath required to fight her on this was not worth it. 

“But you’re not my teacher now, are you?” She gave a defiant smile. “We’re partners. Team Moonstone, remember? And partners don’t hide serious injuries from one another.”

She moved the side of his shirt open and let out a gasp. Her soft fingers trailed gently over his ribs. She scowled and scanned over the same area with her wand. “This is bad, Severus.” Concern filled her eyes. He wasn’t used to someone caring. He looked down to see a mixture of mottled black, purple and blue seeping across his chest like ink. It looked much worse than that last time he checked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, just broken ribs. And I don’t recall agreeing to Team Moonstone, that wasn’t even a suggested option,” he said.

“Don’t joke, this is serious, you need to go to the hospital. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

“It’s just the bruising and a few fractures. I was planning on paying a visit to Poppy and getting some Skele-gro when I return to Hogwarts. I shall be back to normal in a few days.” Rather, he planned on taking some Skele-gro from the Hospital Wing stores without telling anyone or explaining this. 

“At least let me put bruise balm on it. Harry shouldn’t be awake for hours or until we wake him ourselves.”

“Very well.” He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he couldn’t have got up if he wanted to.

She scattered the contents of her bag across her bed and sorted through everything. “Found it!” she said. As she stood up and walked back toward him, he noticed her twisting the colourful band on her wrist. “Sorry, I tossed everything out of my bag when I was trying to help Harry and haven’t put it all back in order yet. A good job for today, perhaps.” She dug out a glob of balm and hesitated before touching him. 

“You don’t have to do this, I’m sure I’m capable,” he said, seeing the hesitation in her eye. 

“Someone needs to look after you if you can’t be trusted to do it yourself.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge. 

“Very well.” He closed his eyes as the cold balm hit his skin. The pressure was unpleasant, but her hands were smooth and the near-instant warming effect of the balm was a welcome relief. He held his breath as she spread the balm over the base of his ribs and across his chest. Her hands lingered, gently massaging until the pain dulled and all he felt was the softness of her hand. 

He let out a slow breath and her hand was gone. He opened his eyes to find her standing there staring at him strangely with a slight tilt to her head. It was the same way she studied a problem that needed solving. There was a softness in her features he never noticed before and her face lit up with a smile that reached her eyes. “See, its much better now, isn’t it?” Her cheeks glowed a little as she turned to put the balm away. 

“You want me to say you were right, don’t you?” He eased his shirt back on and did up the buttons. She turned and gave a shrug. “Very well. Thank you, Hermione. I feel much better and you were right.”

She grinned. “I wish I had recorded you saying that. No one will ever believe it.”

“Unfortunately for both of us, I don’t think people will believe much of the truth about me. Or what we are doing. You must be prepared for that.”

“People will see the truth eventually Severus, it might just take time.”

“One thing we don’t have.”

“You will not wreck my happy moment,” she said. 

“Revel in it all you like. I shall be more careful in the future.” He eased to the edge of the chair and glanced at Potter. 

“Or you could just accept the fact that I’m good at magic and you actually like working with me.”

Their eyes locked. She had certainly grown in confidence. It was an attractive quality. “I admit you are one of the more competent people I have worked with. But don’t let it go to your head.”

A smile tweaked in the corner of her mouth and she turned to check on Potter. “He’s moving around. Looks like he might wake up soon.”

“Good. One spray of your alertness spray should do the trick.”

“That’s not a very good name for it,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “You should call it something perfume, make it sound fancy and desirable. It’s better marketing.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to worry about such things,” he said. If he lived through this war, naming a perfume would be the least of his concerns.

She didn’t mention it further, but collected the spray from her bed and set it next to Harry.

“It’s best that I leave now, it will work quickly,” he said, easing himself out of the chair, but feeling much better than before.

She nodded, but turned away, and collected up a few things in her bag. She really didn’t go anywhere without it. 

“I forgot. I brought this in case you needed it. Merry Christmas, I suppose,” he said with a shrug as he pulled a small square out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand. The blanket unfolded in the air and landed in her hands.

“This is the blanket off your bed,” she said as she started stroking it as if it were a cat. “Thank you, Severus. That’s really quite thoughtful and I do hate the cold.” Her smile indicated genuine appreciation. 

“Yes, I have noticed your affinity for fire and blankets. Plus it's well into the middle of winter and you’re living like forest folk, it’s the least I can do.” It was a nice blanket, genuine cashmere. But he figured she would need it more than him, especially now that he had seen her living conditions. 

Hermione placed the blanket at the end of her bed and had regained the bounce in her step as she walked him out beyond the wards. Though the same underlying sadness he sensed before still flowed through the ring, even though her face was serene. He didn’t understand her. 

The tent disappeared and in its place a vast stretch of snow spread across the rolling hills. He didn’t know where they were, but there was a rare peacefulness about the place. He felt a tug in his chest. It might have been nice to stay out here, away from everything. 

They walked a little way, then stopped near the base of a hill. “Thank you Severus, I truly mean it. I think Harry would be dead if it wasn’t for you.” 

Before he could respond, she was hugging him. Her arms were around him and her face pressed into his chest. He took a second to respond, but rested his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled of the citrus shampoo he had noticed in the bathroom the last few days. He watched as her breath misted in the air, mixing with his, and he curled his arms around her, pulling her in close. She was so warm, so real.

She didn’t make any effort to end the embrace, so he loosened his grip and she stood there, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted. He opened his mouth but said nothing as they locked eyes in mutual curiosity. He was acutely aware of his own heartbeat and just how close she was to him. He forced himself to step back and look away.

“I guess you had better go, and I should wake Harry,” she said as she lowered her head and kicked at the snow, her cheeks rosy from the cold. 

He cleared his throat. “I will see you in a week’s time.”

He took his wand from inside his sleeve. Before he Disapparated he turned to say goodbye, but found she was already right beside him. She tilted his face toward her and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, then swirled around and skipped off. 

“Bye Severus!” 

He touched his hand to his cheek and let his fingers trail over the place her lips had been. She was already halfway back to the tent, bouncing through the snow. She turned around to wave with a cheeky smile across her face. Whatever just happened, he had a strong feeling it would lead to disaster. He tried to clear his head and focused on the porch at Spinners End. 

* * *

Severus was back at Hogwarts the next day. He set the bottle of Skele-gro on Dumbledore’s desk— _his_ desk—and took out a tub of bruise balm. He ignored the old headmasters staring down at him and unbuttoned his shirt to rub the cold balm on his ribs. 

“Get in a fight, did you Severus?” Dumbledore’s portrait joked. 

“No, I was nearly killed by a bloody snake thanks to your ridiculous plans.” 

“It’s going well then?”

“No, it’s no going bloody well.” He wished the old man would piss off and leave him alone.

“And how is young Harry doing?”

Severus looked up at the painting, wishing the man was alive so he could punch him in the face. “He would be doing a lot better if you had just told me the bloody sword could kill Horcruxes. That tiny piece of information you _chose_ to keep to yourself has caused months of unnecessary pain and lack of productivity.”

“I knew Harry would work it out in the end,” Dumbledore said as he sat up straight and proud.

Severus slammed the bruise balm onto the desk and stood up, his shirt still open as the balm began its warming affects. “That’s not the point. Now I have to get him the sword in some absurd charade when you could have given it to him and explained all of this before your untimely death.”

“It was quite timely, Severus. I thank you for that.”

Footsteps thundered into the room. “Am I to believe what I am hearing?” McGonagall stood in the doorway seething. She looked between Severus and the portrait. 

“Oh Severus, is this all true?” Her eyes eyes misting over.  
. 

A weight lifted off him in that moment. He turned to Dumbledore. “Are you going to tell her or am I?”

She glanced at Severus’s bruised chest with concern and then glared at Dumbledore. “Well?”

Dumbledore proceeded to tell her everything that happened, as if it were all part of a grand plan that was going off without a hitch. Severus sat silently. Basking in the glow of Dumbledore finally getting caught out. A slow warmth spread through him alongside the bruise balm. He’d have time to tell her his side of the story later. He drifted in and out of Dumbledore’s long and winded story. 

He redressed himself as the balm worked its magic and thought about how terrible his night would be after he drank the Skele-gro later. At least it was just a few crack ribs to heal. Nothing compared to regrowing a bone.

Suddenly he felt eyes on him. McGonagall marched up to him. “I’m so sorry, Severus.”

He winced as she drew him into an all encompassing hug. He stiffened. He had been hugged more in the last two days than the last two years.

“Sorry, dear. I knew something wasn’t right,” she said, then turned to Dumbledore. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I am ashamed of nothing. This is all part of my plan,”

“Bull shit it is,” Snape said.

“All will be well.”

“No thanks to you. And not for Harry. Nor me, and probably not Hermione either. You’ve screwed us all.”

McGonagall swivelled around, wide eyed. “What about Harry and Hermione? What have you sent them to do?” She glared at Dumbledore.

“I don’t see Severus complaining about the arrangement. In fact, I believe it to be quite the opposite,” Dumbledore said, beaming. 

That was it. “I will set fire to your bloody portrait if I hear one more word of rubbish come out your mouth!” Severus bellowed at the portrait and threw the bowl of sweets at the dead Headmaster. “Do you realise what position you have put her in. Do you know what she will face at the end of this? Did you think about it? Whether I’m dead or alive, she will be tried with Death Eaters, and punished for her association with me. There will no one to defend her, no evidence of what we have done and nothing to prevent her demise.”

Minerva pursed her lips.

“Such fire,” Dumbledore chuckled.

“I want to kill him again,” Severus said to Minerva with all seriousness. “This time with my hands.”

“I trust you will think of something, Severus. You’ve always been quite resourceful,” Dumbledore said, unaffected by Severus’s death threats. 

McGonagall stood between Severus and the painting. “You’ve made a right mess of this old man.” 

She conjured a black blanket and threw it over the portrait with a huff and turned to Severus once more. “I apologise for the way I’ve treated you and for not seeing this sooner. I will do anything in my power to aid your cause.” She took a seat at the desk. “Now tell me everything.”

She summoned cups of tea and plates of sandwiches. It would be a long night, but as he sank into the chair, he finally saw a glimmer of hope peek from behind the dark clouds. Minerva could save Hermione, even if he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try get a few more chapters out this week 😊 This story is getting much longer than I planned it to be 😂


	16. A Patronus in the Night

A chill hung in the air and outside a thick layer of snow coated the clearing they had moved to that morning. Hermione wrapped her green blanket around her as she moved for the fiftieth time, trying to get comfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked as he plopped two ration packs of chicken curry into the pot on the stove. Hermione was glad he had his appetite back. It had been a long week of recovery, but Harry was doing remarkably well. She put it down to Severus’s healing handiwork, and all the medicines and potions he had left her with. Though Harry had gotten it in his head that she was some sort of miracle healer. 

“I’m fine, this chair is just lumpy, that’s all.” Another lie. Her skin was practically buzzing with anticipation. A week had passed and tonight was the night she had been waiting for. Severus was due to appear in half an hour and Harry would follow his Patronus off into the forest to find the sword. Hermione’s only job was to get him to go outside to spot the Patronus.

The minutes dragged by, and Hermione remained on the same page of Beedle the Bard staring blankly. Harry passed her a bowl of curry and rice and she focused on eating it without even tasting. 

“You seem distracted,” Harry said as he wiped his finger around his bowl to get the last of the sauce.

“That’s disgusting, Harry. I was just thinking about the Deathly Hallows in this book. I think they could be real,” she said, half thinking aloud. 

“What’s that?”

“You know. Grindelwald's symbol. We saw it in the graveyard at Godric’s Hollow, and Luna’s dad had it around his neck. Remember I told you that Viktor was pissed off about it?” 

Harry leaned in, at least looking mildly interested. She took the opportunity to give a quick summary of the tale of the three brothers. She flicked through the book, showing Harry the pictures as she explained the basics of the three brothers and their encounters with Death. 

She got to the end and slammed the book shut. “Or perhaps it’s just a silly fairy tale,” she said. 

Harry sat there staring into space. “We _have_ come across the symbol a few times now.”

“Something to think about,” she said as she stretched and stood up. “How about you get some more firewood? I’ll do the dishes.” She tried to act natural. But inside, her nerves were jumping around like magic beans.

“Sounds good,” Harry said as he put on his coat. “Can I take your wand?”

“Sure, just let me heat the water in the sink so I can do the dishes.” She filled the sink and bubbled the water up with magic and heat.

It gave her a horrible feeling of separation every time she let Harry borrow her wand, but they didn’t have any other options. With his destroyed in the Godric’s Hollow snake attack, they could hardly go to a wand store to shop for a new one and it didn’t look like it could be repaired.

She turned to Harry and dropped her dish cloth. “Harry, why did you have the Horcrux around your neck that night.”

His hand went to his chest. The wound had healed a little since the week before, but she knew it bothered him more than he let on. “I wanted you to have a day off. It’s always in your bag. You sleep with it under your pillow, for Merlin’s sake. You’re always the one closest to it, so I thought I might give you a break. But I didn’t intend on you finding out.”

“I gathered that much. But thank you, Harry, I know it was with good intentions. Sometimes I can feel it there, like it’s lurking, waiting for _Him_ to jump out.” She shook her head and turned back to the dishes. “Its silly.”

“No, it isn’t Hermione. It’s getting to you again. Maybe I should take it for a while.”

“It’s probably safer in the bag. At least we have a little distance with it in there.” She bit her lip and focused on the dishes. 

“Just give it to me to look after for tonight. Have a rest. I can keep it in the pouch and hang it around my neck. I won’t make the same mistake as last time.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager. But knowing she couldn’t just hand it over, that wouldn’t be like her at all.

“I’m sure.”

She smiled, hopefully looking full of gratitude, and dried her hands. She got the locket from her bag and handed it to Harry along with her wand.

A wave of icy air entered the tent as Harry stepped out into the darkness. She heard the crunch of his feet in snow as he moved further away. Ten minutes later he appeared and dumped the firewood just inside the doorway. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I’m going for a walk Hermione, will you be all right?” he said in a rushed voice. 

“I’ll be fine, Harry. I’m going to turn in to bed early, anyway. Good night.”

“Night,” he replied, and he was already out the door.

She let out a breath and fell into the chair. She hoped he had actually gone this time. 

A warming sensation filled the ring and her heart skipped a beat. ‘ _He’s taken the bait_.’

She couldn’t help but laugh aloud. It felt like a set up in a spy movie. ‘ _Where are you?_ ’ she asked. Unsure if he planned on lurking in the dark forest all night, or if he could control his Patronus without his full concentration.

An image flashed through the ring of a tall standing stone. It was at the edge of the forest, near the tent. But she couldn’t leave, as she didn’t have a wand to let herself back in the wards. It would be silly to step out and lose the tent completely.

‘ _Twenty metres to the west_ ,’ she said and raced outside. The freezing wind licked at her exposed skin and she squinted into the darkness to try to spot Severus. The moon was near full and the reflection of the snow lit up the clearing with a convenient ghostly glow. She spotted a dark figure coming her way and carefully moved to the edge of the ward and put her arm through it. 

Her fingers tingled with the freezing air. She wished she grabbed her gloves before she ran out. She waved her hand up and down, both to get attention and try keep the blood flowing. 

Fortunately, he spotted her hand and made a direct line for it. His leather gloved fingers wrapped around her own and she guided him through the wards and into the safety of their makeshift camp.

“Cold?” he said, with a raised eyebrow as his gaze fell on her and her exposed hands, hatless head and scarf-less neck. Her thin cotton jumper was no protection against the penetrating wind.

“Nice to see you too,” she replied. Without waiting for him, she shot back into the tent, skipped over the discarded wood and held her frozen fingers over the potbelly fire. A shiver rippled through her as she defrosted. She hoped Harry would be warm enough out there.

Severus entered the tent and frowned at the pile of wood as he stepped over it. He stood in the centre of the makeshift room, assessing their living conditions.

“Sit down there and I’ll make tea as soon as my hands get feeling back in them.” She winced as the numbing sensation turned to painful burning as warm blood returned to her fingers. Severus sat and rested his hand on the arm of the chair while actively gripping his wand. He gave a few quick flicks, then turned his attention to Hermione.

“Potter is following my Patronus,” he said.

“Excellent. How far are you leading him?”

“Far enough for it to feel like an adventure, and long enough that we will have enough time to make our next plan.”

“You do realise how cold it is out there? And you’re sending him on a long hike?”

“Yes. He should be prepared for such things.”

Hermione shook her hands out and filled the kettle to start it boiling. She then began moving the wood Harry collected across the tent and out of the way behind the fire. Severus watched.

“Why are you moving the firewood that way?”

“What way?”

“Like a muggle?”

“I happen to be from a muggle family if you recall,” she said as she brushed wood shaving off her chest, hoping there were no slaters or spiders lingering.

“Yes, but no one wants to move firewood if you have the option of using magic.”

“Well, maybe I do. Perhaps I want to improve my upper body strength. Did you consider that?” 

He raised his eyebrows. “This is a ridiculous argument. Where is your wand?”

She stopped and let out a breath, hands on hips, and placed the last piece of wood in the fire. “Harry has it,” she said. “We don’t exactly have many options around here for getting new wands, and it’s not fair if he’s left wandless. Plus, I thought he might need it for your midnight scavenger hunt. And it sounds like he might.”

“We will have to get a wand to him.”

“Perhaps another scavenger hunt?” she said as she poured hot water into the teapot. “How long will he be gone for?”

“Several hours at least. And if all goes well, he may find a bonus prize.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Please tell me it’s a good surprise. Not some sort of test?”

“You’ll see. Though you might not like it. But for now we should discuss the next Horcrux. I believe it’s time you made a trip to Hogwarts.”

Hermione placed a large cushion by the fire and wrapped the green blanket around her shoulders. “Lets get planning then.”

They spent the next hours fussing over details of how Hermione would get in to Hogwarts, who she should talk to, and what the mission was. But Severus was holding something back, but it was hard to tell if it was about the plan tonight for Harry, or their future planning. The dread of not knowing something clawed at the edge of her mind.

She found it harder to sit upright by the fire and soon moved to lean her back against Severus’s chair, using his knee as a pillow.

“We can swap seats, you know,” he said.

“I’m happy here.” She closed her eyes and listened to him talk. Occasionally offering her own suggestions to the plan. 

It was late into the night when they had finally finished their Horcrux discussion, and hopefully it wouldn’t be long before their first one was destroyed. 

“How far away is Harry?”

“On his way back now. He has the sword.”

“You can sense that through your Patronus?”

“Yes, rather like a distant voice. I sense what is around it. I’m leading him back now as I’m sure he has no clue where he is.”

A buzz of excitement rushed through her. They were finally getting somewhere.

“He’s nearly here.” Severus said, standing up quickly. “I would rather not be caught in here drinking tea.”

“I’ll walk you out.” She put on a coat this time and pushed into the cold night air. It was refreshing after the sleepiness of sitting by the fire.

They stood beside the cold campfire. The moon had crept below the tree line. “Hermione, I feel like I’m obligated to tell you something.” He paused and stared over her head to the trees. “There is little chance I will come out of this war alive. But I will do my best to prove your involvement with me had nothing to do with Death Eaters or betraying your side.” 

Her heart dropped. The thought of him not being there wasn’t something she wanted to consider. She took a breath and faced him, determined not to wilt into a sorry mess.

She met his eyes. “Have you ever considered you might not die in this war?” she asked.

“Yes. And it ends up with me being tried as a Death Eater and facing a fate worse than death. Or the other option is to take the coward’s way out and spend my life on the run. Always hunted and never being able to stop. What option would you choose?”

“I would choose for you not to die and we can find another option,” she said firmly.

He turned away and narrowed his eyes to the woods. “Whats the point. What life could I possibly have?”

“The point is I care about you and I don’t want you to die,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. 

“Then you’re a fool. I told you from the beginning there would never be a happy ending for me.” His stony gaze locked on her.

“Maybe it’s not up to you decide?” she said. She wanted to take risk. She reached out her hand and let it slide into his. He didn’t pull away. She could see through his cold stare to the caring man he did his best to hide. 

“You need to be prepared for the worst, Hermione.”

“Or I could just keep looking for ways to show the world what you have done.” She squeezed his hand. He looked toward the forest and didn’t pull away, but he also gave no indication of what he was feeling. 

He turned back to her and took her other hand. His thumb drew small circles on her palm. “I’ve been researching a way to reverse your parents’ memory loss. I’ll leave the notes in the top drawer of the dresser in my bedroom at Spinner’s end. If I can find a solution, you will find every there, if I’m gone you will know where to look.”

Her blood simmered with anger at how easily he accepted his supposed fate. Rage ran hot through her veins and her mind reeled at how stubborn he was. She stared at him. “You are infuriating! I don’t know whether I want to punch you or kiss you,” she said without thinking. She tried to turn away, but he held both her hands firmly between them.

“Do I get a choice?” he asked. He stood there unmoving, his eyes challenging her.

She didn’t think. Instead, she pulled his face toward her. Her lips met his, and he froze. Her heart stopped. Had she done the wrong thing? But the next second he was kissing her back. His lips parted and his mouth moved against hers, sending warmth rushing through every inch of her. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Hermione pressed into him, no longer aware of the world around them.

They parted, both breathless. Severus paused. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” she said. Her heart thundering in her chest. From his look he obviously hadn’t expected her to do that. Had she made a mistake? Of course he didn’t see her that way, he had just been caught up in the moment. They just got carried away, and she was an idiot. Her hand ran through her air and she turned away. Wanting nothing more than to run back into the tent.

He pulled her back toward him. “This is a bad idea,” he whispered, but made no effort to leave. 

His fingers brushed her cheek, sending jolts of shivers down her spine. 

“I’m sure it is,” she said. Her mind had stopped working as he leaned down to meet her lips. Suddenly everything was different. The cold around her evaporated and there was only him. His hand firm against her back. His lips warm and soft, and burning through her. A rush of unmistakable desire pulsed through the ring and almost drove her over the edge. It was dizzying and entirely unexpected. 

“They’re nearly here,” he said, as he pulled away and Hermione stared at him, breathless. Did he know she felt that through the ring? Her hand rested on his chest and they stood there as if time didn’t matter. If it was up to her, things would have gone a lot further and Harry would not have been impressed with what he saw when he arrived back at the camp. Something about Severus made her want to lose control. 

“They’re just beyond the tree line. I really have to go.” He pulled her around the side of the tent and didn’t let go of her hand. 

“Severus about this um—us—”

“Hermione. Since it’s you, I’m talking to you. I’m assuming you’ve thought this through, and deep down you must know this is a terrible idea. This can only end badly.”

She peeked around the tent corner. She could hear voices in the distance.

“It doesn’t have to Severus, and no, I haven’t actually thought this through at all,” she admitted. “But if you’re so insistent in dying in this war, why does it matter how it ends for you?” she whispered. 

“Because I care about you.” A silence hung in the air. 

Hermione’s chest tightened. She swallowed and shuffled from one foot to the other. An echo of laughter sounded through the trees. She tilted her head, realising that Harry wasn’t alone as she met Severus’s gaze. “If you really feel that way, how about you put off all this talk of dying and focus on staying alive?”

He kissed her again, but this time so softly it was barely a kiss. The gentleness had her off balance instantly. She hated that he could do that to her. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” His hand slid from hers, and she was suddenly cold. “Goodbye Hermione.” He slipped silently into the trees and Hermione stood there blinking and wondering if all that had really just happened. He hadn’t answered her last question. 

She straightened herself up and froze as at the voiced grew near and she heard crunching footsteps. She recognised Ron’s voice in an instant. She raced into the tent, pulled her boots off and dived into her sleeping bag. She shoved her face into her pillow and let out a tiny squeal. What had she just done? She had little time to think about it before the boys burst through the tent flap in a surge of laughter, slapping each other on the back.

The light levels rose to a low glow, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. Within seconds, a hand was shaking her shoulder.

“Hermione, wake up. You’ll never guess what I found!”

She turned over and rubbed her eyes. “Harry? What is it?”

“Look!” Harry stepped aside to see a very sorry looking Ron.

A wave of mixed emotions descended on her. Seeing Ron standing there made her want to hug him and hex him at the same time. She had missed him, the old Ron anyway, but the hex-him emotion won out as she remembered all the horrible things he had said.

“Harry, hand me my wand.” She swung her legs out of bed and placed her hands on her hips. She hoped she looked like she had been sleeping rather than kissing someone secretly behind the tent. She could hardly believe it herself. 

Harry jumped out of her way and darted to Ron’s side. “Hermione, just listen. You know it was the Horcrux making Ron say those horrible things, he didn’t mean them.”

“You mean he didn’t mean to say them out loud. You heard him, Harry, you know what he thinks of me,” she said, wondering how quick Harry would be if she tackled him to get her wand back.

Ron gulped and moved behind Harry. “I didn’t mean it Hermione, I’m sorry. Please. I want to be here. I want to help.”

“How I am supposed to work with you Ron if you don’t even trust me and are harbouring some weird resentment? I can’t just forget what you said.” 

“The Horcrux is gone now. It’s gone,” Ron said. “I promise I’ll be better, please just let me stay,” he begged.

“The Horcrux is gone?” she looked at him with genuine surprise.

Ron reached into his pocket and stepped forward, dangling the mangled locket in front of him as a peace offering. It hung open, the glassy S on the front was smashed and the metal warped beyond use. Hermione couldn’t help but step forward to get a closer look.

“ _You_ did it, Ron?” She moved her hand toward it and no longer felt the dark pull it usually had. “But how?” she asked.

“The sword, we got the sword back,” Ron said, his chest puffed out in pride. Harry was using the sword to lean on and glanced down at it. Hermione smiled and feigned surprise. But was genuinely impressed they had destroyed the locket. 

“And how the hell did you find that?” she asked.

“It was in a frozen lake,” Ron said, as if that explained everything.

She shook her head and bit back a smile. Of course it was. Severus certainly didn’t make it easy. “Fine, then. Tell me what happened when you destroyed it?”

Both Ron and Harry’s faces went red, and Ron mumbled something under his breath about a smoke cloud and a voice, then trailed off. Perhaps it was better she didn’t know. Harry quickly changed the topic of conversation and they sat around the fire catching up. Harry in the armchair, Hermione on her cushion by the fire, and Ron on a stool a safe distance from Hermione. 

Her anger for Ron diffused slightly once he filled them in on what he had learnt in the outside world. She was surprised to hear he hadn’t gone back to mummy, and it sounded like perhaps he had grown up a little during his time in exile. She was happy to hear just how much he had been torturing himself over their fight. 

Good. 

“We should celebrate.” Harry said.

Hermione fished a bottled of wine out of her bag and poured it into three chipped teacups. She could certainly use a drink. She couldn’t stop thinking about Severus. Deep down she admitted to herself it wasn’t as spontaneous as she thought, she had wanted to do that and didn’t regret it one bit. Though she was sure she was setting herself up for a lot of problems in the future. For once, she didn’t care. 

Her attention turned back to the room. “Just for the record, I’m not forgiving you, Ron.” Hermione said as she handed a cup to Harry, leaving Ron to get his own. 

Ron looked at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I’ll make it up to you.”

Harry glanced between them both and smiled. “Cheers to three down and three to go!” Harry said. They clinked teacups, and each took a drink.

“And Ron got me a wand, look,” Harry said as he pulled out a wand and handed Hermione hers back.

“It was from a Snatcher,” Ron said, looking proud of himself. 

“Now we’re all set to go after the next Horcrux,” Harry said. Sculling his cup of wine as Hermione wrinkled her nose. The wine was of poor quality. 

“About that. I’ve had an idea for finding the next one,” Hermione said, moving the conversation to hers and Severus’s plan. Somehow she had to convince them she needed to go alone to Hogwarts. Either that or she would just go in secret without them. But it was happening, and happening soon. 

She sipped her wine and thought about how bizarre this night had been. But for once, everything felt right. 


	17. Hogwarts

Hermione Apparated into the tunnel somewhere beneath Hogwarts. Water dripped from the walls and it smelled like hundreds of years of lake water had been sitting there stagnating. She held her breath and hurried through the sludge to the wooden door at the end. She pulled out the Marauder's Map and activated it. The tunnel she was in didn’t even show up. But on the other side of the door showed an empty hallway that led through the dungeons. She checked no one was coming and made sure the invisibility cloak was secured around her, then creaked open the door. 

She blasted off the smelly lake sludge and started up the stairs, heading for the Gryffindor common room. It was after 10pm and the only people roaming the corridors should be prefects and teachers. She wanted to avoid both. Using the map and a long detour, she finally made it and stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

It felt as though she was coming home, but also different. Like something was wrong—like she was in a parallel world that wasn’t quite right. She checked the map and revealed herself to the Fat Lady, who fell right out of her chair. “You’ll give me a heart attack, you will!” she exclaiming clutched at her chest dramatically. 

“Can you please get Ginny to come out if you don’t mind?” Hermione asked, not wanting to stop for small talk or get dragged into a conversation about the Fat Lady’s many ex-lovers. She had heard all those stories before. It was one reason people strove to remember the password.

“And why should I?”

“Because it’s your job as the door guardian,” Hermione suggested.

She turned her nose up. “Very well.” And she left the portrait.

Hermione felt overly exposed standing in the empty hallway. She checked the map and let out a breath when she saw Ginny heading her way. Ginny cautiously peered through a crack in the door. Then saw who it was.

She leapt out the doorway and onto Hermione in a crushing hug that almost knocked her over.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Ginny said. “You look so skinny. How are Ron and Harry doing?”

“They’re both good, Ginny. Well, Ron’s still a dick. Harry is good. Can we go inside? I need to talk to you and I need to stay hidden.”

Hermione wrapped herself in the cloak one more and followed Ginny closely as she guided them through the common room and up the stairs to Ginny’s dorm. Ginny kicked out her roommates, who did as they were told right away. Ginny pulled Hermione onto her bed and closed the curtains around them. 

“Secret enough for you.”

“Perfect. How did you get your roommates to leave so fast?”

“I told them I was bringing a boy in here, they didn’t want to stick around.” She shrugged. “Tell me everything. How is your secret mission you can’t tell me about going?” Ginny had dark rings under her eyes and was also looking far thinner than she should be. 

“I take it you’ve moved on from Harry then?” Hermione said.

Ginny just laughed in response. Hermione shook her head, then tried to fill Ginny in on as much as possible, but without actually telling her anything. In return, Ginny updated her on all the havoc they were creating around the school and how terrible the Carrows were. The retelling of breaking into Snape’s office was hilarious, that was, if Hermione chose not to think about the consequences that came down on Severus.

Eventually Hermione knew she had to get moving. She wanted to find the Horcrux tonight, and she couldn’t sit around chatting. She told Ginny what she needed to do, and Ginny left and came back with Parvati from Hermione’s old room. 

“Hello, Hermione,” Parvati said, not particularly warmly.

“Hi Parvati. It’s nice to see you again,” Hermione said. Aware of the fact that she shared little bond with Parvati, even after living together for years.

Though they never got on, but Parvati was still a kind person at heart and Hermione was betting on the fact that her former roommate knew how to get into the Ravenclaw common room. Siblings often had magical means of communication if they were in different houses, and this is what Hermione was counting on. 

Parvati didn’t ask too many questions and agreed to help for a bottle of Firewhiskey that Hermione promised to get to her later. Also betting on the fact that Severus had a bottle lying around in his rooms that she could nick. 

Hermione said goodbye to Ginny with a pang of sadness, then smuggled Parvati under the invisibility cloak and across the school to the Ravenclaw tower. It was awkward climbing all those stairs squished together under the cloak, but Hermione didn’t want to take any chances. 

Once they were there, Parvarti stopped, and they ducked into an alcove just beyond the top of the stairs. She closed her eyes and Hermione waited patiently, not quite sure what to expect. 

“Okay, she’s coming out to meet us now,” Parvati whispered.

“How did you do that?”

“We have Harmony moonstones. They’re very rare,” she said proudly. 

“Like this?” Hermione showed her the ring.

“Ooo pretty! Who does yours connect to? Are you engaged?” Parvati was suddenly very interested in Hermione. 

“What? No—” She couldn’t ask more and wasn’t sure she wanted to, as Padma appeared in their alcove.

Hermione lifted the cloak and Padma let out a small gasp in surprise. “Hermione!” she wrapped her arms around her. A much warmer greeting than the other twin. 

“Padma, I’m sorry to be blunt, but I don’t have much time and I need your help. I need to get into the Ravenclaw common room to find something. Can you help me?”

“Of course. Parvati said it was important. I’d be happy to help.”

Before they went in, Hermione explained she was looking for the diadem which was met with very discouraging comments. Even so, she had to try to look for herself. If it wasn’t there, at least she might come across some sort of clue. 

Parvati said goodbye, Hermione checked the way was clear and showed her what path to take back to her room. 

Hermione put the cloak back on and Padma listened to the riddle to get them through the door — _What cries without eyes and flies without and wings?_   
  
She got it straight away, and they entered to a wide airy common room. The domed ceiling was illuminated with constellations of stars that matched the sky beyond, and every space of wall was filled with bookshelves that framed towering windows. 

Hermione started to wish she had been put into Ravenclaw like the hat suggested. The room was lit with a soft muted lighting and the few students still up, either sat at large tables with their own bright lamps, or gathered by the fire on velvety blue couches. Hermione felt an urge to join them. To forget her mission and just go back to being normal for a short while. A tightness in her chest formed as she realised Luna should be there. 

Padma whispered to her as she guided Hermione around the common room. Together they searching every inch of the room, including all the bookshelves. They even patted down all the stones, walls, and wooden panels for any secret hiding spots that may appear. The Marauder's Map didn’t give any additional hints. As they went, several people came up to Padma asking what she was looking for, and she brushed them off, thanking them, but saying not to worry and that she was just looking for an old notebook.

Hermione’s blood pressure rose as the students left for bed and the midnight bells tolled. Padma wasn’t giving up. Next she took Hermione into a few dorm rooms, then a bathroom, then an office. They came up with nothing.

Hermione shoulders slumped, and she rolled her neck. It was 1am, and she didn’t have the slightest hint of a clue where the Diadem or any other Ravenclaw artifact might be. It was time to give up. She thanked Padma, whose eyes were half closed with sleep and found her own way out of the tower and headed toward the dungeons.

She knew roughly where Severus’s rooms were, but didn’t like the idea of roaming around the dungeons late at night. She moved like a ghost past the old potions rooms and further down the hallway beyond the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She tiptoed past the door and looked over her shoulder, feeling as if someone was watching her. 

She pressed her thumb to the ring, and the door clicked open. The butterflies in her stomach began multiplying and her mouth turned dry. She pulled open the door to find herself in a small sitting room. Much fancier than Spinners end. The walls were lined with old tomes, potion bottles and miscellaneous artifacts. She looked around as Severus entered from a door at the other end down two stone steps. 

“Did you find it?” he asked. Face blank.

She shook her head and draped the invisibility cloak over the nearest chair. “I searched for hours, it can’t be there it’s too obvious.” She decided it was best to stick to business talk. She didn’t want to be the one to bring up their kiss. 

He indicated she take a seat on the large green sofa. She shoved off her shoes before stepping onto the soft rug, then sat down, tucking her feet under her.

“This is really nice,” she said, looking around, not wanting him to notice how nervous she was. 

“You see why I prefer to live here than Spinner’s End. Tea, wine or whiskey?”

“Whiskey please.” She needed a boost of confidence. “Spinner’s End could be nice if you did a few things up.”

He handed her a glass and looked at her as if to say ‘you know why.’

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Come. I have something to show you.”

He walked through the door up the two steps. She wanted to protest being ordered about, but out of curiosity she got up and followed. They went through a small kitchen with a booth tucked into the side of the wall that looked quite cosy, then down a set of stairs to another level. A workshop full of bubbling potions, brass apparatus and wall to wall jars of ingredients filled Hermione's vision. It was paradise. He led her to the far edge of the bench where rows of test tubes were lined up, all numbered. He lowered himself to lean on the bench and she did the same, their arms resting against one another. 

He reached across the bench and pulled several vials over. She squinted at the tiny writing. 

“ _Serpens mordeat 2_?” She read aloud.

“I’ve modified the formula to make a fast acting liquid that can be injected.” 

She reached over him and picked up one vial. “This is amazing.”

“Potter didn’t actually have much of the venom in him. The snake hadn’t wanted to kill him. In a true bite, he would be dead in under an hour.” A cold chill ran through her bones. She hadn’t known that. 

“I want you to take some of these and keep them on hand. It is likely the snake will hunt Potter. If he’s bitten again, administer a dose of this as soon as possible, and then another in six hours.”

She nodded and rounded up the vials, tucking them neatly into a special box with foam vial holders and a stash of syringes and needles. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use them. She looked down and was suddenly very aware of his arm pressed against hers. Their bodies so close that she tensed up, and she was conscious of every breath she took. She wondered if he would mention the kiss. She turned to him once more and found herself lost for words.

“Now isn’t this cosy,” a voice sounded from the doorway.

Hermione instantly twisted around and had her wand on the intruder. Draco Malfoy. He held his hands up as if it were a joke.

“I surrender,” he said with a laugh. “Where’s the Ogden’s Sev? You hiding it again?”

Hermione kept her hand raised, eyes locked on Malfoy. Severus’s hand fold around her own and slowly lowered her wand. She glanced at him in panic.

“It’s quite all right. Draco is no danger to either of us. Please refrain from cursing him.”

Blood raced through her veins. Every inch of her telling her to hex him. As if Severus knew what she was thinking, he tightened his grip on her hand then uncurled her fingers from her wand and took it. And she let him.

He then turned to Draco. “How many times have I told you to knock, Draco?” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Hermione said, with teeth clenched. 

Severus took her hand and positioned himself between her and Draco and guided her back to the sofa in the other room. She suspected it was more of a safety precaution for Draco, rather than a gentlemanly gesture. Her eyes didn’t leave Draco, and Severus didn’t return her wand. He indicated she sit down, and he sat down next to her. Again, she suspected it was to prevent any attempts on Draco, which she was strongly considering. He couldn’t be trusted. 

Draco found the whiskey on the bookshelf behind them and seated himself on a chair on the other side of the coffee table and furthest from Hermione. He had the decency to stay silent at least. Severus leaned into the chair with his arm across the back. Hermione continued to lean forward, watching Draco with narrowed eyes.

“Draco is here because he needs help. He wants to get out, and I have said I will aid him,” Severus said. 

“Well, I bloody well won’t,” Hermione said. “Do you know how much of a twat he is? How he bullied Harry? How he bullied me?” She glanced back at Severus.

Draco leaned forward, a sly grin on his face. “Do you know she punched me in the face once?” 

“You deserved it,” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged and sat back again, not at all bothered. 

“I can see you have both matured so much since then,” Snape said. “You’ll just have to get over it. Draco is to help us, and in return you will let him help you.”

Hermione sculled her glass of whiskey and sat back with her arms crossed. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but if you say we can trust him, then I believe you.” She glanced at Severus. “Tell me your plan then, and I’ll see if I approve.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at them. “This wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said. 

Severus gave a loud cough and ignored Malfoy’s comment. He turned to Hermione. “Luna Lovegood is being held at Malfoy Manor, along with the wand maker Ollivander and the Thomas boy. Draco has agreed to aid in getting them out, in exchange for leaving with them and being ensured protection against the Dark Lord.”

Hermione sat for a moment, contemplating as the whiskey warmed her limbs. It was too good an offer to argue with. If there was a chance she could save Luna, she would at least hear them out.

“So we break out Luna, Dean, and Mr Ollivander and pretend to kidnap Malfoy?” she asked. Ignoring Malfoy and directing her questions only to Severus. 

“Precisely,” Severus said.

“And you have a plan on how to do this?”

“Yes.” 

“Very well,” Hermione said, her arms still crossed. She looked at Malfoy with mistrust. “I’m doing this for Luna, not you,” she said, wanting to make it clear. 

“Thank you,” Malfoy said, looking straight at her. It sounded like he actually meant it.

“Just don’t give me a reason to punch you again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding and raising his glass in agreement. 

“Good now lets get to planning,” Snape said. 

They spent the next hour going over a plan on how to break into Malfoy manor and make it look like a rescue attempt. The answer was simple, they didn’t have to. All she had to do to get in there was get captured by snatchers. They would bring her to the Manor, and Draco and Severus could sort out the rest.

It was around 3am when Hermione switched to drinking coffee, knowing she would have to be a bit more sober to Disapparate, not something to be performed even a little wrong.

As the night wore on, she actually found herself trusting Draco. He was clearly intelligent and quick thinking, but more than that, she felt the genuine hatred he had for the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and in particular, his father. They moved on to talking about the Horcruxes and her failed hunt for the diadem. In the middle of a sentence Hermione was rudely cut off by Draco.

“I think I know where it might be,” he said, sitting up straight.

“Where?” Hermione said suddenly awake. 

Severus studied Draco.

“In the Room of Hidden Things,” Draco said. 

Hermione tilted her head. She ought to know if there was a room of hidden things. That sounded a little too on the nose. 

“It’s on the seventh floor. You know the doorway that appears, and it’s a room stuffed full of old crap,” Draco said.

“You mean the Room of Requirement?” Hermione asked.

“Sure. Whatever you call it. Thats where it’ll be if it’s anywhere in this dingy old castle.”

Hermione pulled out the map. There was hardly anyone out and about in the castle, they could make it. “Let’s go.” She went to stand up, but Severus pulled her back down.

“Wait just a minute. We can’t just go running through the castle at 4am in the morning.”

“I think you’ll find we can,” Hermione said, looking at him defiantly.

“She’s right.” Draco leaned down to rest an elbow on his knee. “You do know you’re the Headmaster, right?” Draco said.

“I am well aware of the fact Mr Malfoy. But I will not have you running around the castle drunk looking for dangerous artifacts possessed by the Dark Lord.”

Hermione giggled at how serious he sounded. “But I’m not a student am I.” She gave him a cheesy smile, patted him on the knee and stood up. 

“You go to bed like a good boy, Draco. Severus, you can stay here if you like. I shall find the ancient treasure we seek,” she said. Perhaps she was a little tipsy still.

Draco stifled a laugh. “I love the way she talks to you Sev. It’s hard to believe this was the know-it-all always trying to beat me in class. I like you Hermione.”

“Thank you, Draco. Though I didn’t have to try beat you in class. It came naturally.”

“Sober up potions,” Severus said as he stood up. He put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Do not leave without me,” he said slowly and clearly. 

She hadn’t intended to leave without him. She sat perched on the edge of the sofa and finished her coffee. 

“So what’s up with you and Severus then?” Draco leaned in and whispered.

She narrowed her eyes. “None of you business,” she said, as Severus came back in. Draco gave her a knowing look, which she ignored. Severus handed them each a vial. They downed the Sober up potions.

“Let’s go get a Horcrux then.” Hermione said, she was suddenly full of energy and clear headed from an additional spritz of the alertness spray.  
They set of out from the dungeons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Hogwarts house are you in? I'm a Ravenclaw (and part Slytherin), but I'm not sure I'd get in the Ravenclaw common room door half the time with the riddles 😅
> 
> Did anyone get the riddle? 
> 
> 'What cries without eyes and flies without and wings?'


End file.
